Little Help Here
by LizD
Summary: A version of what happens next ... picks up immediately after the last scene of DEATH IN THE FAMILY
1. Chapter 1

Castle Fanfiction

Title: **Little Help Here** - Part 1

Written By Lizzie – Summer 2009

Spoilers: Picks up immediately after the last scene of _**DEATH IN THE FAMILY (**_Sans **WriteRCastle** twitter tweets and the publication of _**Heat Wave**_)

With Love and Thanks to the Creators, Writers, Directors, Characters, Cast and Crew of the new ABC Show _**CASTLE**_. Keep up the good work and I will be waiting for YOUR take on the season ender next fall. I personally couldn't wait, so I wrote a version too.

~!~!~!~!~!~

"It is about your mother," Castle said gravely.

Beckett stepped back. "I asked you to leave it alone," her voice was cold and dead.

"I know," he owned. "I did … I would have … but I had already asked someone to look into it -- before I had a chance to call him back—"

"What are you doing, Castle?" she asked.

"Trying to help."

"Help?" she scoffed. "You're just looking for the STORY."

"I don't need your story," he defended. "I have a pretty good imagination on my own."

"We are done here, Castle." She walked away.

"You know Detective," he called to her back. "Not everyone is working an angle against you!"

She stopped but did not look at him.

"Some people actually care about you." He walked toward her and lowered his voice. "Some people want to see you happy."

"Yeah?" she turned to look at him. "Some people ought to start respecting other people's privacy."

"I wasn't … I didn't …," he stuttered. "Look I was going to drop it, but the information seemed too important to keep to myself."

She shook her head and rolled her eyes.

"I didn't have to come to you with this, you know," he stated. "I could have given this to any detective."

"Oh really?"

"No, not really," he recanted. "But from my understanding there is no statute of limitations on murder."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Fine," she announced. "What information was so important that you had to RUSH to tell me … something so important it couldn't wait until … I don't know … the morning … at work … when I wasn't visiting a friend I nearly got killed in the hospital?"

The bad timing of it all sunk in to Castle.

"Tell me," she demanded. "Tell me what you and your RESOURCE dug up in three days that you don't think I discovered in three years."

It hadn't occurred to him that she might actually already have the information. "It wasn't in the case file," he defended.

"Case file?" she barked. "You read my mother's case file?" She was biting back her anger. "Esposito or Ryan?" she demanded.

"It wasn't like that," he said.

"Or did you charm your way past the evidence clerk," she offered.

"I was only trying to help," he repeated.

"MEN!" she ranted on. "Why do men always think they can FIX everything? Some things just can't be fixed!"

The head nurse came up to them. "This is a hospital" she scolded. "You need to take this ELSEWHERE!!!"

"He was just leaving," she explained. "We are done," with that declaration she turned on her heel and walked away.

Castle was left feeling that that scene would have gone better if he had written it.

~!~!~!~!~!~

"So, how did it go?" Martha asked when Castle walked in the door a short while later.

"Not well," he told her heading for the liquor cabinet. "You might want to rethink your Life Coaching career, mother."

"She'll come around," Martha assured him.

"Maybe," he took a long hit from his glass. "But probably not in my life time."

"Don't be a drama queen," she scolded.

The doorbell rang and they shared a look.

"What did I tell you?" she said smugly. "Mother is always right."

"Is that a Marthaism too?" He nodded toward the stairs. If indeed it were Beckett, he didn't want his mother to witness Round 2. She reluctantly went.

~!~

He opened the door without looking through the peep hole. It was a woman and she was in a rage, but it was not Kate Beckett.

"What the HELL is this, Rick?" Gina stormed in waving his manuscript in the air. "You are six weeks past your deadline and this is crap."

"Gina," he closed the door behind her. "Always a pleasure."

"I have seen better writing from a chimp with a typewriter," she stated.

"Did you make notes?" He was unimpressed with her histrionics. She never liked his work, not until it hit the best seller list.

"Notes?" she screeched. "I quit after the second chapter … this is sophomoric, melodramatic, sloppy drivel and worst of all … it is BORING!!! Hell there is a murder you don't even bother to solve."

"If you only read two chapters---."

"I read every puerile, mind-numbing, saccharine word … I quit making notes … the pages would have been coved in red ink." She tossed the manuscript at him. "This is unprintable … hell this is uneditable … This is DRECK. I'm not sure we could sell this to Lifetime to make a descent Movie of the Week."

He took another sip from his glass.

"Face it Rick -- Nikki Heat is a failure," she declared. "You are not THAT kind of writer. You are PULP, not … not … whatever the hell you were aiming for with this. You need to dig up some old Derek Storm story, fix it up starting with bringing him back from the dead … or clone him … or give him long lost twin - Erick Storm – come to avenge his murder … and you have three days to do it."

"Not going to happen," he dropped the manuscript on the table behind her and walked to the living room.

"Then you will be in violation of your contract with Black Pawn and you will pay us back your advance."

"You best be careful with threats like those Gina," he warned. "There is not a publisher worth their salt who wouldn't leap at the chance to sign me --- without Derek Storm --- and if that happened … Black Pawn would be forced to DOWNSIZE."

She ignored his implication. "Don't be so sure, Ricky," she sneered. "Blockage is one thing, but this is just plain bad. You have lost it!"

"Lost what?"

"Everyone knows that playing detective with your new _**muse **_is just a pathetic excuse for the fact that you can't write." She added, "not that you ever could."

"Ah," an idea washed over him. "So you are jealous. Tell me dear, are you jealous of Nikki or Detective Beckett."

She glared at him. "Are you going to give me what I want?"

"I haven't in the past," he grinned. "No reason to start now."

"You'll be hearing from the attorneys in the morning." She stormed out nearly knocking Alexis down.

"Was that Gina?" Alexis asked.

"Your wicked step-mother – in the flesh."

"Wicked Ex-step-mother," she corrected. "What did you do to her?"

"Hard to say … married her, divorced her, threatened to get her fired … it's a toss-up."

"Seriously Dad."

"Seriously?" He poured more scotch in the glass. "She didn't like the book."

"She didn't like book, Nikki, or your attention to Detective Beckett?"

"You are wise beyond your years, little Obi Wan." He raise his class to her before he drank. "And she won't like Nikki until the book sales tell her she should." He changed the subject. "How was your date with Owen?"

"Owen is … well … very sweet," she hedged.

"Uh oh … trouble in paradise?" he reached his arm out to hug her.

She accepted the hug briefly and went into the kitchen. "Yes. Well no." She pulled some ice cream out of the freezer and started eating straight from the container. "I don't know … it seems we don't have a lot to talk about."

Castle nodded to the pint in her hand. "Don't start."

"What?" she defended with a mouthful.

"Do you want to go the way of the American Woman?" he asked. "Allowing a man to dictate your calorie intake … getting fat because some BOY isn't who you want him to be … drowning your sorrows in a pint of Caramel Fudge Swirl."

"Or a fifth of Scotch?" She nodded to the glass.

"Point taken." He raised the glass to her but did not drink. "Carry on."

"So … Didn't go well with Detective Beckett?" she asked rhetorically.

"We weren't talking about me; we were talking about you … and Owen."

"It was our second date in as many days," she exclaimed. "He was probably just nervous." She put the ice cream away. "Besides, I'm only 15. There will be other boys … other men … in my life."

"I expect that is true … just don't follow my example."

"Do I usually?" she asked. "So Detective Beckett?"

The door bell rang right on cue.

They shared a look. "Could be."

"I should leave you two alone, yes?" Alexis asked.

"Thank you, pumpkin."

~!~

Esposito barged in as Castle opened the door. "I told you I would make you bleed," he reminded Castle.

"What happened?"

"I just got an earful from Beckett … seems you told her about the case file."

"I never mentioned your name," he defended.

"Yeah well … she is blaming both me and Ryan … says we will be investigating parking violations ---."

"She can't do that," Castle declared.

"She can … she will … you may not have picked up on this Castle, but Beckett is the jewel in the Captain's crown. While your mayor trumps our captain; you'll be lucky to get a seat at the table when he hears about this."

"Mixed metaphors aside … this is a murder case, doesn't matter if it was Beckett's mother or not, doesn't the NYPD want to solve it?"

Esposito bit back his first response and opted for the party line. "It has been resolved to the department's satisfaction … the case is closed."

Castle shook off that answer. "There were other deaths around that time … some pretty influential --."

"It wasn't a serial killer," Esposito stated.

"You know who killed these people?" Castle submitted like it was a fresh idea.

"There are rumors … rumors I have no intention of spreading."

"So … a cover up," Castle postulated. "Mafia, political … bad cops?"

"Let me give you a piece of advice … and you should take this to heart … don't go digging around in this, for your own good … let it go."

"Kate Beckett can't --"

"I'm not talking about Beckett," he explained. "This is bigger than Beckett."

Castle was confused. "Why did you give me that case file if ---."

"I thought if you read the official report you would give it up. Decide that it was a random killing and that there would be no way to catch a random killer on a 10 year old case. You would leave it alone."

"Like that was going to happen."

"Yeah," he scoffed. "My bad … and I am going to pay for it."

~!~!~!~!~!~

Castle screwed up his courage and knocked on Beckett's door. It was late, well past midnight, but he had to see her. He had hoped she would come to him, but he understood why she didn't. He probably should have given her a day or two, but his concern about the personal fallout made him go. He could take whatever she threw at him. If she were still angry with him; all the better. But if he had just ripped open an old wound, or handed a bottle of vodka to a drunk, then he needed to make sure she was OK – among other things. Answers would have been nice.

There was a light on in a third floor window and an orange glow in the front room – fireplace. She was home. He tried the bell as the knock didn't seem to work. After a long pause the door opened. The light from the street cast down over Kate Beckett. She had been crying. Instinctively he pulled her into an embrace; surprisingly she allowed it – for about 3 seconds.

"Go home, Castle," she pulled out of his arms. "You have done enough for one day."

"Just making sure you're OK," he lied. He had an agenda even if it wasn't formalized.

"I should have slept with you," she said sadly walking back toward the living room allowing him to follow.

"What? When?" He wasn't expecting that and it almost distracted him; probably her plan.

"After the Tisdale case," she explained. "I should have slept with you. Then you would have moved on to your next … next victim."

He was insulted but tried not to show it. "You are no one's victim and I think you are underestimating your … allure."

"Or your … " she struggled to find the word. "Your …"

"Endurance , tenacity, fortitude … moxie," he offered.

"Attention span," she returned to her place by the fire. "Don't think so."

"Kate … Detective," he corrected. "I'm sorry … I really am … I didn't think --."

"No, you didn't," she cut him off. "You live in this fiction world where you can control your characters, their motivation, their feelings, their reactions – hell you control the plot. With a highlight and delete you can change everything. It's not like that in out here in the real world."

"Believe me," he sat down opposite her. "I am very aware of that. I was trying to --"

"Help … I know." She took a long sip from her glass and then raised it toward him. "Where are my manners? Drink?" She nodded to nearly empty bottle of vodka on the table.

"How many of those have you had?"

"I'm not driving." She turned toward the fire. She wasn't as drunk as she had hoped to be by that point, but was glad of that when Castle showed up. "So you never did tell me what your BIG FIND was … the clue that is going to crack this case **wide** open."

He probably should have let her be for a couple of days or waited until she wasn't drinking, but that wasn't his way. A drink was definitely in order. "So what is really bothering you?" he called from the kitchen looking for a glass.

"You have to ask?"

"Apparently." He poured himself a drink. "Ice?"

"Fresh out."

He shutter at the warm vodka as it went down. "So?"

She looked away.

"I don't believe this is about the death of your mother. You dealt with that years ago. I don't think this is about me DISOBEYING your ORDERS … because you know me well enough to know that I usually don't do what I am told. So what is it?"

"What is what?"

"What is this pity party all about?" He was certainly taking a chance with that comment.

"You tell me … you are good with making things up."

He took a pause wondering if he should share his latest theory. He decided he would. "I think you know that your mother's death was not random. I think you know it was a professional hit made to look random. I think you know who killed her and those other people."

She turned her attention back to him, surprised that he had that information.

"Yes, that is what I found out and I can tell that you already know, so don't bother to deny it. I think you know who killed all of them … well who ordered their deaths anyway … and you could not find the evidence to prove it. I think it is that lack of justice that has you striking out at everyone, has you sitting here alone and angry at the world."

"Not the world, Castle, just you."

He kept talking. "It has driven you since then and turned you into super cop."

She smiled and shook her head. "I can see why you write fiction Castle … everything all neat and tidy."

"It's why you play by the rules," he continued unchecked. "It's why you hate people who don't."

"I don't hate you Castle," she tried to be flip. "That's the hell of it." Tears welled up in her eyes again; clearly he had again cut very close to the bone. "What do you want from me?" she pleaded.

"I want to be your friend," he said too simply. "I want you to find some peace and have a little fun in life."

She scoffed. "It's good to want … it builds character."

"Oh Kate," he sighed tired of her flippant responses.

She sat up and wiped her hands across her face. "I'm not going to get rid of you am I?"

"If you really want me to go … go for good or just for tonight, I will," he offered. "But I would really rather not."

"And I suppose sleeping with you now wouldn't help," she said sarcastically.

"Might help both of us, but if your goal is to get rid of me or change the subject … gonna have to go with NO on that too."

She shook her head. "This is so surreal," she said. "I can't believe this is happening … in my living room of all places."

"I don't follow."

"You … here … asking to help … hell, helping without asking."

He shrugged. He still didn't get what she was trying NOT to say.

She inhaled and exhaled deeply, building up her courage. "That year of therapy … well it started before then, but --- anyway, I read all your books – more than once … or twice." She nodded to the shelf in the corner. "At first it was just the Derek Storm series, then the rest … including the three children's books … and the ones since. All 33."

"36," he corrected.

**"Storm Fall** was a fitting end." She realized she was giving him ammunition against her by admitting her appreciation for his work. "You are nothing if not prolific … but after knowing you, I can see that you have a pretty vivid imagination. And don't … just don't …"

He knew not to gloat or tease her.

"Anyway … back then … back before I became a cop … when I was dealing with my mother's death … I would try to imagine what Derek Storm would have done differently. I would sit here, in this chair, staring at the fire and conjuring up … whatever it was … wishing I could ask him … hire him … have him at least help me … and here he is … here you are ready, willing and able to … to … to do what you do. Derek Storm wants to solve my mother's murder. Like I said … surreal." She felt stupid and foolish after her admission.

Castle couldn't help but be flattered. "Well, I'm not Derek Storm," he said as humbly as he could. "And I am not writing it … but I would like to help."

She stood up finally finding the strength to push him away. "Not tonight." She headed for the stairs. "I need sleep … been a very long couple of days."

"Detective?" he called after her. "Kate?"

She turned to look down on him. "I'll see you at the office, Castle … Tuesday … taking Monday off."

He took that as the only victory he would get. They were not done; at least not yet.

"Don't you have a book to finish … something about a last chapter?"she asked.

"Book is finished," he told her freshly reminded that he still had Gina to deal with. "But I am ready to start the next one."

"You don't even know if your fans are going to like Nikki Heat," she protested.

"They are going to love her," he assured her.

She couldn't help but smile. His fans would love anything he did. He could copy out the phone book and it would wind up on the best seller list. He was living under a lucky star. Then her smile faded. If he was going to start digging up the dirt from her mom's case, his luck would change. He needed to stick with fiction – real people had real motives and real people really died. She would deal with that another time. "Until Tuesday, Castle. Lock the door on your way out."

"Tuesday," he confirmed. He should have gone home; instead he took her seat by the fire. He had some thinking to do and getting a cab in that neighborhood at that time of night was not going to happen. He would be sure to be out before she woke up.

~!~!~!~!~!~

A/N: Was thinking of a 5-6 chapter episode to pass the weeks until Castle is back, interested?


	2. Chapter 2

Castle Fanfiction

Title: **Little Help Here** - Part 2

Written By Lizzie – Summer 2009

~!~!~!~!~!~

Gina stormed up to Larry Whitcomb (the CEO of Black Pawn)'s office at 11AM on Monday morning immediately after her assistant told her of the 'breakfast meeting.' She arrived just in time to see Castle emerge with Sheldon Levine (the lawyer) on one side and Lesley Moore (the secret) on the other. It was Gina's worst nightmare.

"Great talking to you Larry," Castle called over his shoulder. "See you tonight … love to Lydia and the kids." He turned his gloating smile toward Gina. "Banker's hours, eh G?" he taunted.

"Why wasn't I called?" she demanded to know.

"Kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing," Sheldon answered. There was no love lost between Gina and Sheldon; any time he could do an end run around her he did. "Good to see you again, Rick … I'll see you tonight. Ms. Moore, an absolute delight meeting you and you will have the contract on your desk by end of day." He turned to Gina with a smirk; "Gina," and walked away

"Let me introduce you to Lesley," Castle said brightly. Lesley Moore stood confidently beside him. She had about 15 years on Castle with an air of authority about her. "Oh wait," he played. "You two know each other, don't you?"

"We have spoken on the phone a once or twice," Moore said dryly. "Maybe three times," Gina didn't say anything; there was nothing she could say. Her secret was out. Lesley Moore was the editor behind the editor; the one who did all the work and was given no credit. Gina made sure of that. And why should she be? Lesley Moore was not the face – the bright, fresh, sexy face – that Black Pawn wanted to put out to the public. She was a middle aged English teacher with an edge – a very sharp edge that was always slicing toward Gina. She knew where to put a comma but what did she know about selling books? "Typically we trade e-mails and interoffice memos," Moore stated.

"E-mails? Memos?" Castle mocked his disgust. "So dry … so cold … so impersonal … but that's your forte isn't it, my dear?"

"What was this meeting about, Ricky?" Gina asked harshly.

"Well, you see Gina," he stepped closer to her and lowered his voice. "It turns out that Ms. Moore here has been editing my work … for years in fact … much to my surprise … and Larry's too … and here I thought all those insightful editorials were yours."

"Of course I sent your manuscripts through edit before printing," she defended. "You can't spell, your typing is atrocious and don't get me started on your grammar usage. Some is poetic license, but some is just plain wrong. Black Pawn has **your** reputation to maintain."

"Should have thought more of your own reputation," he smirked. "Lesley here disagrees with your … your … your assessment of _**Heat Wave**_," he announced. "She likes it."

Gina snapped her attention back to Lesley. Three days prior Lesley told Gina that the book was dreck; unprintable , unadulterated, sophomoric dreck. There was no misunderstanding but now that Gina thought about it, it wasn't in an email – it was one of those rare phone calls hence no paper trail. That was what prompted Gina to _**storm the Castle**_ – as it were – and demand a rewrite or the return of Derek Storm. "She likes it?" Gina glared at her.

"There is a bit of work to be done," Moore admitted finding it very hard to contain her amusement. "But not a complete rewrite by any means."

"Of course, of course," Castle jumped in. "But with your help …"

"The book is trash," Gina maintained. The hell of it was, when she got the report from Moore that the book was not good, she actually did read it. Gina rarely read her writer's work before it was locked and on its way to printing. She told herself it was so she could keep a fresh perspective when she went to market it. She didn't like it. She didn't like Nikki. And she didn't like the direction Castle's writing was going. It was hard to know if that opinion was original or if she were just parroting back when Moore had said. In the end, her reason for not liking it was selfish: the book would not have the same kind of mass market appeal as the Derek Storm books. That meant less money in her pocket. "It's pure trash," she repeated. "Your title character is a failure as have been the last three months of 'research'."

"I disagree," Lesley stated. "Nikki Heat is by far the most interesting character that Richard has created … head and shoulders above any other female and much more complex than Derek Storm."

Castle literally BEAMED his delight.

"Oh really?" Gina scoffed. Nikki Heat was the other reason she didn't like the book (or was it Detective Beckett?). Gina was never his muse, never saw herself in any of the characters in any of his books and that was a narcissistic blow from which she would never recover.

"You two should talk more – sounds like your emails got crossed." He flashed his trademark grin. "And Lesley has some amazing marketing ideas – new, inventive, cutting edge. Wherever did you find her, Gina? And how could you have kept her hidden for so long?" The elevator arrived. Castle turned back toward Lesley. "So, brunch?"

Lesley wasn't a mean or spiteful woman by nature; thought twenty years of teaching teenaged brats could do that to a person. No, she was just too old, too tired and had too much left to do to be kept in the basement. Gina would never have given her the credit she was due at Black Pawn, so she had to resort to less than pure methods to be noticed. Besting Gina and being noticed by Castle were just icing. "Thank you, Rick."

He directed her toward the elevator and didn't give Gina another thought. "I want to hear more about you." He allowed her to enter first. "So you say you were a High School English teacher? For how long? 20 years? And you like my work? Even the early stuff? Ya know; I know your face. Didn't you kick me out of a creative writing class once for ---?"

The doors closed leaving Gina fuming and alone.

Larry Whitcomb entered the outer office. "Gina, was just about to call you. Can you step in for a moment?"

"Sir, I can --."

"Explain? No need, Gina," he patronized. "Everyone has a hard time when relationships go bad."

"Sir, whatever my personal relationship with ---."

"I can imagine that he is no picnic to live with either," Whitcomb continued unchecked. "But we are all professionals here, no egos – or should be."

"Sir, did you read _**Heat Wave**_?" She ignored his comment about her professionalism.

"I don't read Gina; I'm a publisher."

"If you publish that book the way it is, you will lose all Castle fans."

"Or gain a whole new demographic." He took his position on the other side of the desk. "And that Moore woman … my God!! For an old broad she has got some pretty PLUGGED in ways to market this next series of Rick's: viral marketing, online scavenger hunt, mystery writer workshops … something about an interactive game idea … and what the hell is Twitter?" He shook his head. "I want you two to work together on this. There were a ton of ideas rolling around in here."

"Excuse me?" Gina was aghast.

"Viral marketing … sounds like something you get a shot for, but work with her. I am moving her to the office next to yours."

"The CORNER OFFICE? The one with the view of the park?"

"Something wrong?" he was confused.

Gina made a snap decision; never her long suit. All three of her marriages and divorces were snap decisions. The move from Los Angeles to New York was a snap decision. What was one more? "Sir, I have been thinking that it is time for me to leave Black Pawn … go back to Hollywood."

"Oh?"

"Yes sir, I think the … I think it … I like the weather in LA better … fits my wardrobe."

"We would hate to see you go," he was no longer paying attention. "You have been a real asset."

"My contract is up at the end of September, if you would like me to stay …"

"No, no, no … _**Storm Fall**_ is done … best seller in three weeks – we owe that to you and that Moore dame and Castle of course. Transition what you have on _**Heat Wave**_ to her and any other projects you have been working on and you are free to go. We'll pay you until the end … you will get your commission in six months … well work it out with Sheldon." The phone rang and Whitcomb was on to the next thing.

Gina left without another word. She always knew that New York City would never be her home. It was right to go back to Hollywood, though it would have been nice if she had been asked to stay. Publishing was a thankless business; she was going back to Entertainment Marketing. Now there was an industry where a woman could really make her mark. It would be just her luck to have her first big picture be _**Heat Wave**_ with Angelia Jolie as Nikki Heat and Rick doing his first screenplay.

~!~!~!~!~!~

What was supposed to be Beckett's first full night of sleep in more than a month was ruined when her phone rang at 4:00 AM on Tuesday morning reporting a dead body. Day off was over, she was back to work.

"On the bright side it could be a suicide," Esposito told her. "GSW … right temple."

"Let me guess – Banker? Investor? Financial Planner?"

"Broadway producer," he corrected. "Jason Thomas Riley."

She rolled her eyes. It was going to be a nightmare – suicide or no. Riley was known in NYC, not famous … infamous, notorious, downright vile . He had produced the biggest multimillion dollar flops that ever hit the Great White Way but somehow he always came out smelling like a rose with money in his pockets. There were lawsuits buy he slipped out from under all of them like a cockroach. It would be too much to hope that he offed himself; it would take months just to narrow down the suspects to an even dozen. "Lock the scene up … and come up with a story for the press."

"Sounds like a job for Castle," Esposito coaxed.

Beckett did not want to see him and not at that hour of the morning, but with a case to solve, that OTHER case would be put on the back burner for a while. "Fine … wake him up … but call him after I get there … don't want him beating me to the scene - again."

"You got it."

~!~!~!~!~!~

Castle woke to his phone vibrating on the nightstand. The guy who thought that buzzing was less intrusive than the actual ring was fooling himself. "Whoever this is, you better be beautiful and naked and in my bed before I wake up!" he slurred into the phone.

"We have a dead body," Esposito stated. "You coming?"

The clock read 4:33. "I'll be there in 10."

"Take 15 … and bring coffee."

"Right," he stretched. "Hey, who told you to call me?"

"Beckett." Esposito ended the call before he had to explain what really happened.

~!~!~!~!~!~

Beckett was barking out a list of orders to Ryan when Castle walked up holding coffee for all. "So Detective, getting an early start, are we?"

"A late one," she corrected and nodded for Ryan to go. Castle looked hurt that his coffees weren't a bigger hit. "Our victim has been dead for over 24 hours, probably closer to 36."

"Guess they held it for you," he said. He had no idea how he was going to bring up the other night and get her to talk about what she had no intention of talking about. It was a safe bet that a crime scene was not a good location, but that never stopped Castle. "So, how was your day off," he asked. Kate ignored him and started walking quickly into the building. Castle was in step right behind her. "Mine was great … got a new editor … well actually she is the same editor … er publisher … whatever … but I didn't know it … kind of like discovering your soul mate has been living next door … and you meet by chance in an elevator 1000 miles from home. Her name is Lesley Moore … and let me tell you … Les is more … oh, so much more ---"

"Castle, do I really have to hear about all the women you --."

"No need to be jealous," he quipped. "I mean if she were 20 years younger, or I was 20 years older … well maybe 10 … let's say 15 … she does have this flaming red hair, and you know what I soft spot I have for red heads."

"I'll make a note," she said sarcastically. "Maybe she could be your new muse and you can bother her at work."

"Not the muse type," he grinned.

Esposito and Ryan joined them both finally taking the offered coffee. "This one is right up your alley, Castle."

"A real character … slimy, seedy and dead," Ryan added with a shit eating grin on his face. "In fact I think he was one of yours … was it _**Storm in the Footlights**_?"

"No, no, no," Esposito corrected. "It was _**Exit Storm, Stage Left**_."

"_**Storm in Three Acts**_," Ryan nodded back.

"Derek Strom never made it to Broadway," Castle jabbed back taking the mocking well. None of those titles were books of his – but they could have been.

"Suppose you can use it for your next Nikki Heat novel: _**Heat Up; Curtain Down**_."

He shook his head. "Don't give up your crack-of-dawn jobs," Castle joked. "So I assume the vic was an actor … song and dance man … or one of those Hollywood types who wants to get back to his roots and do THEATRE?"

"Producer," Beckett led them into the crime scene. "Murder made to look like a suicide … or maybe a simple suicide."

"Suicide is never simple."

"Either way, that is what we are here to find out." She read from her notes, "Riley, Jason Thomas, 38 --"

"JT?" Castled turned quickly to the victim; the characteristic smirk gone.

"Castle?" She saw the change in his expression.

The body was face down on the desk; the gun next to him.

"Are you sure this is JT Riley?" Castle asked desperately.

"This is his house?" Ryan said. "The maid ID'd him."

"But are you sure?" He squatted down to see if he could get a look at the face. "I mean, how can you be sure?"

"We haven't run the prints yet," Esposito stated.

"What are you waiting for?" he demanded. "You don't believe this was a suicide or else why would we be here?"

"All bodies are treated as a murder until it can be ruled out."

"He didn't kill himself," Castle stated for the record. "You said the maid found him? What time did she get here? What maid comes to work at 4AM?"

"The maid ID'd him; she didn't discover him," Esposito corrected. "We got an anonymous tip."

"A tip? A tip came in in the middle of the night … how often does that happen?"

"More often than you know," Ryan yawned a little too dramatically.

"Castle, with me," Beckett ordered.

Castle didn't move.

"Castle!" She took his arm and led him out of the room.

"So … you knew this guy," she wasn't really asking.

"I knew … I know JT Riley," Castle corrected. "He is my friend … known him since I was 17 … one of the few that called him JT." Castle was very disturbed by the possibility that his friend was dead – murdered or suicide is still dead. He had been writing about murders for over 20 years, he had been working with Kate and crew for months but never had anyone he had known – as a friend – been murdered. There were so many questions and he needed all the answers. There was too much spinning in his head. The first was to prove that the man with his brains blown out was not JT Riley. "He has a scar on his right knee … about six inches long … got it when we broke into the girl's dorm --"

"When was the last time you saw him?"

"The scar will still be there …"

"Castle, when was the last time you saw him?"

He shook his head trying to remember. "Four … maybe five years ago." He looked back to the room with the body. "It can't be him … has got to be --."

"Maybe it isn't … but this is Riley's house … so if he isn't the victim, then he is involved."

"JT would never kill himself."

Dr. Parish called over to Beckett. "Can't be sure, but my gut tells me that this was not a suicide."

"Like I said," Castle crowed.

"Why?"

"He's a lefty." Parish pointed to the gun in his right hand.

Beckett was just about to ask how Parish knew he was left handed when Castled jumped in. "He is left handed. Not suicide."

"OK Castle, I need you to go home," Kate said firmly but not harshly.

"No!"

"Castle, you are too close," she said gently. "I promise I will keep you informed of everything that we find."

"I need to be a part of this, Detective," he pleaded. "You of all people should understand that." Kate hated that Castle had so much information about her and didn't mind using it. "I can help," Castle pressed.

"I know you want to … but you can't tell me anything about the last couple days … who he might have seen, what he might have -."

"Stephanie," he turned away as if he were looking for something or someone.

"Stephanie?" she asked.

"Stephanie is his wife … ex-wife … they were getting a divorce or got a divorce … I don't know … she called me a few weeks back … maybe a month or two. She said she needed my help with something."

"What kind of help?"

He shook his head trying to remember. "I … um … I don't know … she had to cancel and then … I think I did … got tied up … I don't … oh yeah … the Tisdale case." He looked at Beckett for a moment feeling a little guilty. If he hadn't been so wrapped up in himself and his new muse, he might have been available to help Stephanie and maybe prevented his friend's death. "We traded messages but never talked. I have to tell her."

"What are you going to tell her?" she asked. "Two seconds ago you were convinced it wasn't Riley."

"Like you said … he is involved."

"Castle, you can't get in the middle of this. This is an official investigation."

"You don't think Steph had anything to do with this?"

"I don't know and neither do you," she reminded him. "Let us handle this."

"Detective Beckett … Kate … I am asking you this as a friend … please don't shut me out."

"Castle," she was shaking her head wondering when and if they had become friends. Letting him stay was a bad idea and she knew it. It would compromise the investigation and it would land on her ass when it went bad.

"I promise I won't interfere," he pressed.

"You wouldn't know how not to," she stated coldly. "I can call the mayor and have you removed from this, Castle," she told him. "And this is one time when he would side with me."

She was right. She was in charge of the case, if he screwed something up, she would be the one to suffer the consequences. "I would ask you not to do that," he said calmly.

Beckett was between a rock and a hard place. She could have him removed, but that wouldn't stop him from _**investigating**_ on his own. If she allowed him to stay, she could at least TRY to run interference. "I should have you locked up."

"You don't want to do that."

She yielded; didn't want to pull rank on him. "Fine … but let me tell you something." Beckett pulled him further out of ear shot of the rest of the group. "Take this to heart … OK? 90% of the reason murderers are not convicted is because the investigation was screwed up … by the cops. I'm not talking bad or incompetent cops … I am talking about good, honest, hardworking, overzealous cops who are so fixated on finding a killer that they BEND or break the rules outright. You don't want to hear this, but there is procedure – a protocol for a reason. There are lines that can't be crossed; if they are crossed killers go free. It's the American way – innocent until PROVEN guilty – the Bill of Rights and a little something called the Constitution."

"You are telling me this because you think I don't know?"

"I am telling you this because when an investigation gets personal often the rule book goes out the window. Do you understand what I am saying? You may want to help, but your help may be what lets a killer go free. This is as real as it gets, Castle. Please, go home and let me do my job."

He stood silent for a moment. A new insight to By-The-Book Beckett and the case of Mom's Murder came to him; one that had never occurred to him. "I hear you," he said honestly. "I would like to be there when you tell Stephanie – purely as an observer. I won't interfere."

"See that you don't." She walked away.

He made a mental note to get back to her mother's case and why the killer was never caught and convicted when this one was over.

~!~!~!~!~!~

Stephanie Hill's apartment was empty – literally empty of everything. The super had no idea that she had moved out; in fact he swore he had seen her the day before.

"She was getting her mail," he defended, "like every day. 2PM … like clockwork. We talked about baseball … And the heat."

In the kitchen there was a phone and several empty bottles of Synergy Juice. The phone was still hooked up.

"Takes minimalist too far," remarked Esposito when he walked in.

"The neighbors?" Beckett asked.

"Quiet … kept to herself," Ryan read from his note pad. "Never saw any guests; never saw her come and go."

"The upstairs neighbor," Esposito continued. "A Mrs. Jackson said that she was always on the phone talking loudly and sounded mad but was quiet when Wheel of Fortune came on."

"No one saw her move out," Ryan continued.

"Cause she never moved in," Beckett stated. "This is a front. Get a description from the Super."

"I know what she looks like," Castle stated.

"Wouldn't it make a better story if your Stephanie Hill and the Stephanie Hill that got her mail here weren't the same?"

"A much better story," he agreed. "We are going to make a writer out of you yet, Detective."

~!~!~!~!~!~

Castle was looking out the bedroom window watching the street. He checked his watch again.

"Sit down Castle, you are making me nervous," Beckett stated. She had opted to send Ryan and Esposito out to do some leg work and kept Castle with her sitting on the apartment.

"She is not coming," he checked his watch again. "Whoever the hell she is."

"She was here yesterday."

"Probably before she knew that JT was dead," he cringed when he said it. The report that the finger prints were a match had just come in. It was hard for Castle to accept that his friend was dead; worse than dead he was murdered. He paced the room. "Shouldn't we be out looking for Stephanie … the real Stephanie?"

"You tried her cell," she reminded him.

"Disconnected."

"You called her sister," she said.

"The family hasn't heard from her in over a year," he stated again. He didn't like the sound of that when he heard it.

"And you are sure it was Stephanie you spoke to three months ago?"

"Yes."

"And you are sure that the super's description is NOT the Stephanie Hill you knew."

"Well I suppose she could have gained weight … and dyed her hair black … and gotten some green contacts … it is the shrinking 5 inches that has me stumped," he said sarcastically. "But it has been a long time." Something occurred to him. What if Stephanie - the REAL Stephanie had been murdered three months ago and that was why she didn't return his last phone call. What if the fake Stephanie were hired to keep up the ruse? There had to be something more proactive they could be doing. "We have to get out of here."

"It's nearly 2:00PM. The super said she always came at 2:00. If she is not here by 2:30, then I will get two uniforms to sit on this place."

Castle continued to pace but stopped when his phone rang. "Castle … Lesley … no I didn't forget … I am on a case with Detective Bec- … I understand that … no I didn't … I will … not now … it will have to wait … I understand … you will have them by morning … check your email … right … yes … thank you … no, no, no … really … thank you." He snapped the phone closed harshly.

"Your new editor?" Beckett surmised.

"Slave driver is more like it," he quipped. "Let me tell you people, particularly English teachers don't mellow with age."

"Thought she was your SOUL MATE?"

He knew that comment would come back to bite him. "She is a good editor; not sure how she will do marketing Nikki Heat, but she knows about story telling."

"So how do you know Riley and Hill?" Beckett asked. She didn't want to make it sound like an interview, but she needed something more to go on that what they dug up at the house.

"JT and I met at school … don't even remember which one. JT was rich … I mean really rich … blue blood Boston rich. He didn't go into the family business – the black sheep. They cut him off after graduation. Decided he would use his not inconsiderable charm to get people to invest in the arts – Broadway to be precise. Took and lost a good portion of my money back in the day."

"Is that why you haven't seen him in years?"

"I don't lose friends over money, Detective. I can always make more money; friends – real friends – are hard to come by."

Kate only had one good friend in her life and lots of co-worker friends who drift away as soon as you change shifts or precincts. She had to wonder if she and Castle would ever be … friends. "Yet you haven't seen your _**good friend**_ in years … what was it? Five?"

"We had a falling out - as men do - over a woman. In our case it was two women over a decade apart."

She did not want to hear another Castle Conquest story. "Can I get the short version?"

"Steph, JT and I were very tight in college … Steph and I were tighter … the three of us tried to remain tight after JT and I graduated. Then JT brought Meredith to some party."

"Meredith? Your ex-wife?"

"It was love - or lust at first sight. We were less than discreet about it."

"You don't say."

"We were married six weeks later and expecting Alexis a month after that." He tried to look guilty, but really wasn't. "Steph was OK with it … JT wasn't."

"And the second falling out?"

"JT and Steph got married a year or so later; the four of us tried the friends thing again. JT and Steph had a show, Meredith was in it. They had started a production company of sorts; JT was the front man and Steph handled all the finances. They weren't very good at it but JT could charm anyone into handing over their life savings for a little fame."

"I can see why you two were friends," she said under her breath. "You said the second time was about a woman."

"Stephanie … He was cheating on her."

"A little hypocritical, don't you think?"

"I didn't cheat on Stephanie," he was indignant. "The break up wasn't … well it was …"

"Abrupt?"

"I didn't marry her and we weren't engaged. It was college," he justified. "Post college."

"Right," she was unimpressed.

"Turns out Stephanie knew about the other women and said that she was too financially invested in the marriage and business to break it up. By that time Meredith was gone, I had Alexis and we just lost contact. Found out later that the women were minor – he was cheating with the money."

"Cheating?"

"Did you ever see The Producers?" Beckett nodded. "For the new millennium. Worse than getting little old lady investors who had always wanted to be part of BROADWAY; he started taking money from people who wanted their cash … laundered, shall we say? Problem was JT had no intention of actually washing or returning it."

"So he was stupid."

"In a word," Castle agreed.

"You said the wife called you a couple months back."

"I hadn't heard from her in years. She would send birthday cards to Alexis, but other than that nothing."

"So you really don't know what the state of their relationship was?"

"No, but it if I had to guess, Stephanie had had enough and needed help to get out." He remembered back to the time he had promised to help her whenever she called as long as it was to get away from JT.

"So you think one of his 'investors' killed him."

"I don't know who his investors were but I would bet at least one of them was not squeaky clean."

"Esposito and Ryan are at his office; we should have a list and his full financial records soon."

"It won't be complete. JT was very good at hiding things."

At 2:00PM on the dot, the key hit the lock. Castle and Beckett took positions on either side of the door. A woman, about 35 stepped in. She was short, about 5'2" with black hair.

"Stephanie Hill?" Beckett barked with her gun and her badge up. "NYPD."

The woman turned with a start and dropped everything she had in her hands to put them up. "No, I am …"

"Carroll?" Castle asked. "Carroll Hill?"

"Hi Rick … been a long time," she pulled off her wig revealing bright blonde hair. "You're looking well."

"Castle?" Beckett prodded.

Castle's trademark smirk crossed his face; the only thing that could hide his surprise. "Detective Beckett, let me introduce you to Ms. Carroll Hill … Stephanie's sister … the one who hasn't seen her in over a year."

~!~!~!~!~!~


	3. Chapter 3

Castle Fanfiction

Title: **Little Help Here** - Part 3

Written By Lizzie – Summer 2009

A/N: WARNING: ANGST AHEAD!!! (Must have been the heat – next week will be … interesting. Cause you know what they say … It ain't over until the fat lady sings.).

~!~!~!~!~!~

"I don't have to explain myself to you, Castle!" Kate Beckett stormed into the bull pen with Rick Castle hard on her heels.

"There was no need to arrest her," he said protectively. "Carroll was cooperating."

"I didn't arrest her," she defended. She turned attention to Ryan and Esposito. "What have you guys got?"

"We have an investor list and his financial records for the past two years," Ryan said. "Including 'detailed' records of each show that flopped." He did the air quotes.

"Don't think Castle could write better fiction," Esposito joked.

"You think there is another set of books?"

"I don't think there's ONE … his records were a mess. His life was a mess. Not sure how he tied his shoes in the morning."

"Loafers," explained Ryan.

"Right."

"Shouldn't we be a little more concerned about Stephanie Hill, right now?" Castle interjected.

"Castle," Beckett snapped and then softened. "When she shows up, I'll be more concerned."

"Carroll could ---"

"I'm getting to her … Look, if you don't back off, I **will** lock you up, and I'm not kidding … no amount of bail will get you out. Do you hear me?" He nodded but was unimpressed. She turned back to her detectives. "What else do we know about Riley?"

"We know he had an appointment two days ago with Jonathan Huston."

"THE Jonathan Huston?"

"Seems that way … pick him up?"

"Question him … bring him in if he looks like he is hiding something," she told him. "Anyone else?"

"Guess it was a light day," Ryan commented. "Seems he has had a lot of those."

She nodded for them to leave and sat down in her chair opening the file Ryan and Esposito left for her. She took care to shield it from Castle's prying eyes.

"Jonathan Houston – the composer?" Castle asked.

"The next generation's Andrew Lloyd Weber," she barely looked at him. "Probably wanted to get in on the next project – but he's not the killer."

"And you would know this how?"

"Because he was at the opening of his new show on Sunday night – _**Serenity: The Musical**_ – don't think he slipped in a little murder before the first act."

"Front row center?" he jibbed taking the guest chair.

"Mezzanine Left," she corrected.

"A cop who reads fiction, loves musicals and isn't gay … mmm, not sure even I can make that believable in Nikki Heat."

"Castle," she warned.

"Don't worry, you're secret is safe with me," he flashed her a nice smile. "What about Carroll?" he asked. Beckett didn't respond. "You are letting her get the wrong impression," he stated trying to discern her motives.

"Or the right one," she corrected.

"And that is?"

"Who is in charge." She opened a second file and didn't look at him as she spoke. "This a college year reunion, Castle. A guy has been murdered and I have nothing to go on." Castle started to say something but she cut him off. "Or too much. Seems like he was a disreputable business man and that usually leads to several suspects. From what you tell me he was a bit of a womanizer and that leads to several of suspects. None of which I can put a name to as his phone dump turned up nothing. Your friend Stephanie is MIA and sister Carroll is acting strangely. Does it have anything to do with the murder? Don't know, but until I do, you two are not going to walk down memory lane. In fact I would rather you have no contact with her at all." She held up her hand to stop him from speaking. "However, I might be able to exploit that history, get her to open up or slip up. If I do, it will be by MY choice, not yours. I am running this investigation – friend of yours or not – Got it?"

"Got it." He faked a smile. "Can I ask – purely for my own edification, how long can you hold her when you have nothing to hold her on and I know you have nothing to hold her on, because you haven't asked her a question yet … except her name?"

"Up until 3 hours ago you had forgotten she existed," she charged. "Why are you so interested?"

"Assume that I am."

Beckett frowned at that response. She wondered what side Castle would ultimately choose. "She is a person of interest in a homicide, she was pretending to be somebody else and collecting mail – hell I could hold her on mail fraud." She thought about that for a moment making a mental note to use that in her interrogation – er, questioning. "I can hold her for as long as damn well please."

"So … 24 hours?"

"About that, yes."

"And how long are you going to let her _**cool her heels**_ before you question her?"

"Got some where to be, Sam Spade?"

"Nope," he grinned. "Consider me your shadow."

"Terrific."

~!~!~!~!~!~

About an hour late, Beckett called to Castle. "OK Peter Pan … let's go."

"You do know that the shadow was Peter's right?"

"Don't be so literal and keep your mouth shut. Got it?"

He made the zipping motion with his fingers.

Kate and Castle walked into the interview room. Carroll had been sitting along in there for over two hours. She was clearly agitated – or at least ACTING that way. Kate took her position at the table and nodded for Castle to take a position in the corner out of Carroll's line of sight.

"Ms Hill, as you know I am Detective Beckett and of course you know Rick Castle." Beckett kept talking keeping Carroll's attention. "Mr. Castle is observing— NOT consulting – on this case so you should have no concern or illusion that your prior relationship with him will influence this investigation in any way."

Carroll turned to look at Castle, but he was looking down.

"Are you aware that Jason Riley was found murdered this morning?"

Castle was shocked that that was how she started her questions; no softening up, no 'where were you on Sunday?'

"What? No!" Carroll appeared to be visibly surprised and upset. "How? Oh my god … no!"

"Yes," Beckett confirmed ratcheting back the intensity of her questioning but not believing Hill's act. She knew more than she was letting on. "The body was discovered this morning."

"That can't be … I just spoke with him. Yesterday."

"Our M.E. puts time of death on Sunday … in the evening," Beckett corrected. "So when was the last time you spoke with Mr. Riley?"

"He left me a message on Monday morning."

"Did you speak with him?"

Carroll thought for a moment. "No … I guess I left him a message after I got his."

"What was the message?" Beckett asked. She had the message, she had his phone. She didn't need to ask, but wanted to see how much Carroll Hill would lie.

Carroll looked uncomfortable.

"Ms Hill?"

"It was personal."

"He is dead, Ms. Hill," Beckett snapped. "There is no _**personal**_ anymore."

"Detective," Castle jumped in to defend the girl.

"You're out of here, Castle." Beckett stood and opened the door. Two uniforms stepped into escort him out.

"Detective Beckett?" Castle asked wondering why the Zero Tolerance policy.

"You were allowed to stay as long as you were observing," she told him. "Time to go." Beckett closed the door in his face. "So – Ms Hill … how do you know Jason Riley?"

"He is my brother-in-law."

"And where is his wife … your sister?"

"I don't know."

"You were collecting her mail … that apartment was leased in her name, but it doesn't look like she – or anyone else was living there."

"I don't know where Stephanie is."

"Yet you have been picking up her mail there for more than 12 months." Carroll said nothing. "Did your sister sign the lease on that apartment? We can get a handwriting expert."

"No."

"So you were just saving that place for her until she got back." Carroll said nothing. "What was the nature of your relationship with Jason Riley?"

"I didn't kill him," she evaded the question and let tears roll down her face. They looked real enough but that did not sway Beckett.

"But you know who did."

"No," she defended. "I didn't know he was dead."

"Where were you on Sunday between 6 and 10PM?"

Hill shook her head trying to remember, "I was … I was … at work … at the Imperial. I work the concession there."

"That's like being _**on Broadway**_," Beckett remarked snidely. "When was the last time you saw him?"

"Last week."

"The last time you actually spoke?"

"Same day … but he left me a message yesterday."

"Right, on Monday AFTER he was dead."

"It might have been Sunday but I didn't get it until Monday." Carroll was becoming flustered.

"What was the message?" Beckett pressed back at her.

"We were planning on leaving town," Hill blurted out.

"Leaving town? Vacation? Business Trip? Sick Aunt in Dubuque?"

"I don't know," she lied. "He wanted me to get the tickets."

"Tickets for two?" Beckett pushed.

"I was supposed to meet him in a few days – after … ."

"After what?"

"He was waiting for a check to come … needed me to deposit it … then I would meet him."

"Is that why you have been collecting your sister's mail? Looking for checks that are coming in? You are aware that that is against the law: mail fraud, check fraud … the list goes on." Carroll looked away. "Where was he going? Where were you supposed to meet him?"

"Boston. Cape Cod."

"Which is it Miss Hill? Boston or the Cape."

"Nantucket … he has a house out there that no one knows about."

"Just how involved were you with your sister's husband?" Beckett fired back at her.

"Stephanie and JT hadn't been together in almost 10 years," she defended.

"So you were sleeping with him," she concluded.

"Stephanie never appreciated JT … he was a complicated man."

"Where is your sister, Ms Hill?"

"I don't know."

"When was the last time you spoke to her?"

"I don't remember … it has been several months."

"Months or years, Ms Hill?"

"It could have been over a year."

"Does she know that you're sleeping with her husband?"

"Stephanie doesn't care about JT," Carroll asserted. "She didn't care if either of us lived or died."

"So she probably didn't care enough to MURDER him." Beckett coaxed.

"Stephanie didn't kill … she couldn't … she isn't … Stephanie is not in New York."

"How do you know? It's a big city, Ms Hill. She has a husband and an apartment here – hell she gets her mail here. Oh that's right – YOU get her mail here." Carroll said nothing but was clearly holding something back. "Why the ruse at the apartment? Why maintain Stephanie's presence in New York?"

"Business … It's complicated … JT could explain it better."

"JT will not be explaining anything anymore, Ms Hill," Beckett said coldly. "He is dead."

At that Carroll broke down in uncontrollable sobs. She was muttering something unintelligible and shaking her head.

Beckett stood up. "We probably need a little break." She strode from the room.

~!~!~

Castle had been observing and met her outside the door to interrogation. "Was that really necessary?" he asked clearly unimpressed with her tactics.

"Yes it was," she stated. "As long as you were in there, she felt protected."

"I'm not talking about me … Did you need to be so hard on her?"

"She is hiding something." Beckett continued toward her desk allowing Castle to follow or not.

"It could be anything," he defended. "She could be embarrassed about her relationship with JT."

"Could be, but I doubt it."

"You don't really like her for this, do you?"

"At the moment I don't know what to think." She sat down. "She is not giving me straight answers and there is something off about her. I don't think she is as surprised as she pretends to be about Riley's death and she is no innocent dupe." Beckett proceeded to look through the file she had on Carroll Hill. "Were you aware that she is a want-to-be actress with a steady day job? No money to speak of and lives in an apartment that is about half the size of the place we picked her up at today? Why wouldn't she just move into that place? Or move in with Riley if she was so much more understanding than her sister? Maybe she was living with him … or staying with him – A LOT. The maid mentioned a steady visitor … a blonde … need a better description, I guess huh?"

"Detective,"

"Am I supposed to believe that she had more loyalty to her brother in-law than her own sister? Or was she part of Riley's 'business'?" Beckett questions were merely lines of investigation. They weren't actual questions addressed to him. "And I don't need your what-if scenario's Castle. You don't know anything about what was going on with the Sisters' Hill and Riley – at least not for the past five to ten years."

Beckett was working some angle; Castle couldn't quite get it. There was something he was missing. "I could give you more history. I knew Carroll too – pretty well back in the day," he asserted. "Why don't you ask me?"

"What is it that you think I should know?" she evaded.

"Answer my question first." He leaned in. "Why don't you ask me?"

"You are either going to be an investigative lead or you are an observer on this case – not both."

"You don't think I can be objective."

"I don't think anyone can be." She leaned forward to meet him. "You told me JT was your friend, and there was a time you were involved with his wife – admittedly BEFORE she was his wife, but you did offer to help her get out. I would put good money that Riley knew of your generous offer. I'll bet that pissed him off. And clearly you and the sister have a history. I don't know the extent of it but I guess I could surmise from the reputation that you have put out there, that you and Carroll were more than friends too."

"The reputation that I have put out there?"

"You have this whole bad boy, super stud persona that is RICK CASTLE – with a black book that is thicker than the Manhattan phone book. Why wouldn't you have tapped both the Hill girls?"

"And that bothers you?" he grinned almost proudly.

"It annoys me," she corrected. "I don't believe it. I don't think you are as BAD TO THE BONE as you like to pretend to be - but fact or fiction – it's your issue, not mine."

"My issue?"

"You have an image to maintain, I get that. But whether it's to help you sell books … or if you enjoy being thought of as a reckless, thirty-something party boy with way too much time on his hands … or both is your business – not mine."

"SNAP!!"

"But to tell you the truth … you and I have been 'working' together for a couple of months now and frankly it doesn't add up. This act of yours is getting a little old."

Caste was confused, a little offended and felt a slightly caught. "Where did that come from?"

"You asked," she mumbled.

"I have said it before, you are a curious woman, Detective Beckett," he stated.

'Mysterious,' she thought. 'He called me Mysterious, not Curious.'

He stood up still trying to understand what had just happened between them. She felt she had gone too far pushing him, and yet didn't get the desired results. "May I see her?" he asked. "May I talk to Carroll alone?"

"In the interview room with the cameras on," she told him. "You are not her lawyer."

"Speaking of which, I called one." He waited for a reaction which did not come. "He should be here shortly."

"Fine."

"May I bring the prisoner some coffee or is she restricted to bread and water?"

"Order her a five course meal from Soto for all I care."

"Fine."

Kate leaned back in her chair and watched him walk away. Apparently part one of her plan did work – CASTLE TO THE DEFENSE OF A DAMSEL IN DISTRESS. She was playing a dangerous game with him. Castle was someone who was used to getting his own way; it would be hard to guess how he would react when she put a stop to that. He had influence there was no doubt about that, and it could come back and bite her in the ass. She really didn't want to make an enemy out of him, but she did need him a little bit mad at her – just like Carroll Hill – to get them to talk more freely; the enemy of my enemy etc etc etc. She saw him enter the interview room and wondered if her plan would work or if she had just blow a hole in her foot.

"Well played, detective," the Captain said from behind her.

"Ya think?" She looked up at him. "Not so sure. He is no fool."

"No and you will get caught - eventually," the captain owned. "Next time won't be so easy."

"Does there have to be a next time?"

The captain shrugged. He too was beginning to wonder just how long Castle would hang around 'observing.' "Oh Detective, by the way … you have a tell."

"A tell, sir?"

"Yep." Montgomery started to walk away.

"You aren't going to tell me what it is, sir?"

"Nope, not until after our next game of poker," he smiled and left. "Bring cash," he called over his shoulder.

Beckett's phone rang. "Beckett … You found what? … I'll be right down."

~!~!~!~!~!~

Beckett rang for the elevator reading through the coroner's report that Dr. Parish had just given her. It wasn't complete, but it was very interesting reading. When the doors opened she slammed into Castle as they each tried to enter/exit.

"Detective." Castle stepped back to allow her to enter and stayed in the car with her. "I thought you would stay for my conversation with Carroll."

"I'll catch it on reruns," she closed the file and looked up at the numbers hoping for her floor to arrive quickly; not that she would be able to shake the shadow of hers.

"Something new from Dr. Parish?" he asked.

"Could be," she deflected. He leaned over and pulled the stop button on the elevator setting off the alarms including Beckett's. "Castle!"

"Let's take a minute here, shall we?"

"Let's not," she tried to reach around him to push the button.

He blocked her way and maneuvered her to the back of the elevator, arms on either side closing off her exits, looming over her – mere inches apart - but not touching her. "So what was that little game you ran back there on me?"

"I don't know what you are talking about," she defended. She felt her face flush.

"It was totally unnecessary; I was already way ahead of you."

"Way ahead of what?" she was annoyed. She wanted him to back off. He was too close. It was not that she couldn't defend herself; she just didn't want it to go that way. She couldn't think.

"Are you questioning my loyalty? My integrity? Do you really think that I would purposely screw up the investigation so you couldn't get a conviction?"

"No." That had never crossed her mind.

"Don't you think that I know your moves well enough by now to play along?"

"PLAY ALONG?"

"I get it Detective; I really do. But you don't. At least not me. You say you don't buy my ACT, but you don't give me credit for anything else."

"Credit for what?" she stood tall backing him off of her allowing her to breath. "This is a game to you – all of it. Hell your whole life. Entitled little rich boy who gets to play at things then write them up in a nice neat little story that is palatable for the general public. Following me around, being a detective is just the latest hobby you have picked up like laser tag, fencing or hang-gliding off the Empire State Building. Frankly I am surprised it has held your interest for this long. But this is my life, Castle!! This is what I do. I don't get to try something else on when I get bored, the job gets dirty or something else SHINY grabs my attention. This is not a GAME to me."

Castle was taken aback. "I can see that," he said with a little affect as he could muster. He pushed the button so the elevator would go back in motion hitting the lobby level button.

Kate was sorry she got so pointed. She had no real defense but she did get what she wanted – him to back off. "I'm not saying that you don't have good instincts. And you have been helpful on cases – you bring something completely different to the job."

"I appreciate you saying that," he said evenly. The elevator doors opened on the ground floor and he stepped out not waiting for her.

"Castle," she called after following him in to the lobby.

He turned back and kept his voice low. "No … I get it … Black and white … right and wrong … heads or tails … no middle ground, no gray. You told me right from the get go, Detective. People either make your life easier or your life harder, and you are right – I don't want to be the guy that makes your life harder. It's lonely at the bottom." He turned away.

"Castle!"

He turned back. "There are friends and foes - the problem is - for all you MAD DETECTIVE skills - you don't have a clue how to tell the difference. Sad really … from where I stand, you could use all the friends you could get." With that he was done.

Beckett stood watching him go. "Be careful what you wish for, girl," she mumbled to herself.

"You OK?" Lanie Parish said from her side. How much she had witnessed was hard to say, but even if she hadn't heard the words – the body language was unmistakable.

"Fine," Kate glanced at her friend.

"Drink?"

"Oh yeah… a BIG one … but I have a suspect I need to interrogate."

"Later?"

"Absolutely."

~!~!~!~!~!~


	4. Chapter 4

Castle Fanfiction

Title: **Little Help Here** - Part 4

Written By Lizzie – Summer 2009

~!~!~!~!~!~

The bright sun and blast of blistering heat and humidity stopped Castle in his tracks as he marched out into the early evening. He didn't know what time it was, but thought it should have been later – like October. He was getting really tired of the New York City summer. He should have taken Alexis and gotten out of Dodge – Maine, Martha's Vineyard, The Hamptons. 'What good was being an _**entitled little rich boy**_ if you didn't flaunt it?' he thought.

"Beckett," he muttered as he fought his way through the sweltering streets. Was it his fault that he was rich, handsome and charming? Was it his fault that people liked him? That people responded to him? Doors opened for him? That he wasn't a half bad detective for a lowly writer? Was it his fault that he had turned his talent into cash and valuable prizes – not to mention celebrity? Wasn't that the American Dream? Was it his fault that he didn't have to _**career**_ hop his way through life selling his loyalty to the highest bidder, worrying about his 401(k) and sweating how he was going to put his daughter through college? Was it his fault that he was having fun? That he liked his life? That he had been lucky? Just because she hadn't was no reason to piss on his parade.

"She hadn't," he repeated to himself. Kate Beckett hadn't been lucky. She didn't like her life. She wasn't having fun. That wasn't entirely her fault. People who weren't lucky in life made up for it by either working harder, living with less or bitching about it. Kate wasn't bitching, she was living with less – a lot less, and she was working harder than most. She took full responsibility for the choices she made in life and lived with the consequences of the events she no hand in creating. She didn't blame the Gods, Karma or the devil himself. She wasn't asking for the moon, a hand out or help. All she wanted was a little respect. Castle did respect her – more than most women or men he knew - though pushing her buttons every chance he got probably didn't feel very respectful to her. He admired her tenacity and her work ethic. He truly did believe she was extraordinary – he told her as much, but actions often speak louder than words.

The whole muse/Nikki Heat thing started out as an amusing way to spend his days while he was --- not blocked, he wasn't blocked he was just taking a PAUSE in writing. Kate Beckett inspired him and in more ways that just writing. Of course, getting to play at being a detective with real cases and real detectives was cool – really, really cool. But it was Kate that kept him coming back – with or without the cases, with or without the next book. She fascinated him. She was different. And when she denied him with that 'you-have-no-idea' taunt … well, that was nothing short of a gauntlet being thrown down. Castle was OH SO ready for a challenge. Having women throw themselves at him every day got old – very old. It was like a steady diet of candy or pasta --- occasionally a man needs to sink his teeth into a nice piece of meat. Kate was … well she was not candy or pasta. The stuff that went on between them that day was nothing – it was minor. Two people working too closely together getting on each other's nerves – bound to happen, happened in all GOOD partnerships. At most it was fall out form the unresolved stuff about her mother's case – which reminded him that they needed to get back to. He would take the night to sooth his wounded ego, and she would do the same and they would be back at it the next day. No harm, no foul.

His phone rang and he answered it without looking; he knew it wouldn't have been Beckett. It was Lesley Moore. She was checking on the status of his edits: pushy old broad. He tried to shut her off quickly. "Working on them, Ms Moore – as we speak," he lied.

The traffic noise let her know that he wasn't home and therefore wasn't working on the edits. "Can you come by the office to discuss a few things?" she asked.

"Been a long day, Lesley," he told her. "I need a shower and something to eat – I'm going home."

"Fine, I will see you there." She ended the call.

He was really in no mood to hear anything derogatory or in any way critical. He thought about calling her back and telling her not to come, but she would keep pushing. He had sized Lesley Moore up very quickly – _**tenacious**_ was in the top five along with stubborn, persistent, and relentless. So much so, she was waiting for him in the lobby of his apartment building when he got there. The shower and food would have to wait.

After the standard pleasantries and the quick and dirty notes were reviewed, Moore made her major suggestion. "This is my opinion and you don't have to agree with me, but I think you need to delete the love scene," she said gently.

It was a poignantly beautiful love scene revealing the vulnerable side of Nikki. Castle felt that the scene was important. It softened the character; made her more accessible to the reader. He had made Nikki too hard, too aloof, too unapproachable and frankly too slutty. It wasn't the only sex scene in the book, but it was the only love scene. Castle felt that the reader needed to witness her at her raw exposed core – the heart of Nikki he wanted only them to know. It was extremely well written, full of pathos and passion and very vivid; something new for Castle (not the slap-and-tickle-fade-to-black that was Derek Storm's MO). He had been inspired one night to write it; it was the night that Beckett had told him about her mother's death. He didn't want to lose the scene – it was important. "Why?" he asked simply.

"Well, let me ask what your plans are for the reporter in future Nikki Heat books." The love scene was between Nikki and a NY Times investigative reporter who was trying to dig up a story using Nikki as a source. Nikki and Reporter-Guy had known each other before the novel started and had a love/hate relationship with lots of banter and sexual innuendo. Neither one of them was the 'relationship' kind; both too focused on their work and neither was below using the other to push his/her agenda. "Are you planning on them having get together? Will he always be hanging around the edges of the story, or will he be a main character? Nikki's foil?"

Castle leaned back. "A very good question … hadn't really thought about him."

Moore found that hard to believe. It was clear that the reporter was Castle. Castle always snuck himself into a story but usually not that major a character. In the Derek Storm books he was the bartender that Storm confided in about his cases. "Well, if you want him to be recurring – you might want to save this scene for a while," she said. "Don't want your heroes to peak too soon." There was merit to her comment. "On the other hand, if you want to kill him off and give Nikki another reason to hate the world –."

"Do you think Nikki hates the world?"

"I think she has been hurt, and I think she has reason to hate the world. But the fact that she gets up every day and does her job to the best of her ability is inspiring. Nikki sees the dark, the seedy, the underbelly of humanity. She trades in death, murderers and the broken lives of the victims' families. It would be easy to write off her edge to the fact that she has been jaded and turned cold by that life but it's not true. No, it was not the life she was born to; it was the life she chose. Nikki takes responsibility for that; maybe too much responsibility. It isn't easy for her and she is terrified of opening up, of trusting someone and getting hurt AGAIN. And God knows she has some coping skills that are pretty hard to take for the people around her but she gets up every day and does her job. A job most people would never consider, take for granted and will never truly understand for all the _**CSI**_ and _**Law & Order **_dreck that is on TV."

"So you like her?"

"I do. She is compelling. She is interesting. She is definitely flawed and she has some serious trust issues, but that is understandable. I think she probably has an amazing back story that should be revealed slowly. I think you have laid the ground work for an incredible character that can grow and grow. Nikki will be bigger than Derek – if you work it right."

Castle was a sucker for an articulate fan – sorry, admirer of his work. "The love scene really needs to go?" he looked like a sad little boy being told he couldn't keep the puppy he found.

"I think you should find it a better home," she said gently. "Don't tell us Nikki's back story, don't have her blurt it out to a man she considers an adversary … reveal it, slowly over time."

"Can they still have sex?"

"Hell Yes, Man," she laughed. "This is Nikki Heat we are talking about. She is a red blooded modern American female who knows how to get her needs met … though to be honest, you could lose one or two of the other scenes. I'm not sure how she gets any work done."

He laughed. "Am I going to have to put you down as a co-writer on this?"

"Nah, just a kind word in the acknowledgements and 15%."

"You got it," he stood to lead her out. "Dinner is on me … any where you want to go … when this hits the best seller list."

"If I get 15%, dinner is on me."

"That's up to Sheldon."

"Rewrites? Tomorrow?"

"Will be in your inbox before your alarm."

"I wake up pretty early," she warned him.

"Sleep in," he told her and kissed her cheek. "Thanks for coming by."

"Thank you, Rick," she said with clear honesty. "Thank you for the opportunity."

He flashed her his trademark, knee weakening, spine melting smile. Lesley Moore may have been older and wiser than most of the women on the receiving end of that smile, but it had the same effect. "One more thing," he called to her. "Do you like the reporter?"

"Honestly?" She had to be careful. "I think he is a bit of a narcissist, and I don't always trust his motives. I don't think he would ever intentionally hurt anyone, but collateral damage is inevitable in his line of work. Is he right for Nikki? Only time will tell … and I am sure Nikki will have something to say about it. But for _**Heat Wave**_, he is the only person who is completely honest with Nikki and she needs that."

"Right." He liked that Moore talked about his characters as if they were real.

~!~!~!~!~!~

Beckett was re-watching the interview with Castle and Hill. It was like a dance. Hill was working him with every trick in the book: tears, sad stories, man-lies and broken hearts. It truly was a Tony Award winning performance. On the face of it Castle lapped it right up which only seemed to urge Hill on and annoy Beckett. It wasn't until the end of the interview that he revealed that he hadn't bought one thing she was selling.

"So, why did you kill JT?" he asked matter-of-factly.

"How could you ask me such a question?" she was appalled and still playing her part.

"You have given me about six different motives: he lied to you, he used you, he told you he loved you, he took your money and was about to leave town leaving you with nothing." He leaned back. "Oh yeah, he was still in love with your sister –."

"He hated Stephanie."

"And you gave him 10 years of your life – for nothing. He was going to meet her, wasn't he?"

"No!"

"Where is she?"

"Not here … she was never here."

"Did you kill her too?"

"I didn't **KILL** anyone," she said sharply. It was the first thing she said that Beckett believed. Carroll Hill didn't kill JT Riley, but she had shot him or was protecting the person who had.

The very last thing Castle said before he left was "You should get yourself a lawyer … I hear they appoint them around here if you can't afford it … but you will hear about all those rights soon enough I imagine."

Beckett had to smile. Castle was just playing her when he told her that he had called an attorney for Hill. She made a mental note to play more poker with him. She didn't realize that Ryan and Esposito were back and watching over her shoulder. "Castle is a real piece of work," Esposito commented. "Nothing gets by him?"

"Where is he?" Ryan asked.

"Don't know," she evaded.

"He left me a message." Ryan handed her the note. It was an address in Nantucket.

"The wife?" she asked.

"My guess."

"This is too easy," she leaned back in her chair.

"Sometimes it works out that way … no twist … no turn … just a Jack shot Jill over bills – end of story."

"Or in this case … Jill shot Jack to turn suicide into homicide."

The two detectives shared a look. "Did we miss something?"

"M.E.'s report," she handed it to them. "He was dead when he was shot. Seems he had taken a _**more than recommended dosage**_ of sleeping pills with his bottle of Tequila. He was dead for about 4 hours before the GSW."

"Is it still considered a _**wound**_ if you are dead when you get it?" Esposito looked at Ryan with a slight smile.

"Suicide?"

"Could have been an accident," Beckett admitted. "But the hole in his head wasn't."

"And you think Hill did it?"

"I do," she got up.

"Why? Just mean?"

"I'm guessing for the insurance … doesn't usually pay out for suicides. Find out who his beneficiary was." Ryan nodded. She turned to Esposito. "Book her … make sure she gets a lawyer."

"Where are you going?"

"To see if we have any friends on the Nantucket PD."

Ryan looked at Esposito, "Road trip?"

"I'm driving."

"Then I'll need to get my helmet and up my own insurance."

~!~!~!~!~!~

"Hey Dad," Alexis said softly as not to startle him.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said warmly closing his laptop.

"Are you OK?" she asked coming around the desk to give him a hug. "I heard about JT."

"Oh honey," he hugged her back. "I should have told you, I'm sorry." He didn't know if she would remember JT. She was about 6 or 7 the last time she saw him.

"Hard to stay ahead of the media these days." She sat on the edge of his desk. "Are you OK?"

"I am," he said as truthfully as he could. "JT and I had our differences and it doesn't look like he turned his life around at all. Kind of sad really."

"More than _**kind of**_," she stated. "So Beckett and crew didn't pull this case? You didn't ask for it?"

"Detective Beckett is working the case and I am sure she will bring in the person responsible." He got up and headed to the kitchen for another drink. Those Monster Energy drinks were becoming his new vice. It was no wonder he couldn't sleep at night. "Unleash the BEAST," he said taking a gulp.

"Dad?" she asked again.

"Yes, pumpkin?"

"What's going on? I know you would never leave an investigation - not one that involves a friend or even an ex-friend."

His daughter was the only one who really knew him – and that was OK – many people never got as much. "I believe they have the person in custody so they didn't need my help."

"Something else is going on," she pressed.

"Everything is fine … or will be, OK?"

She backed off. "OK … but I am canceling my overnight with Paige."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"We could play scrabble … I'll let you win."

"No, no … I have work to do … Lesley has me working all night. I'm fine, go, be young, be free, eat chocolate and stay up past your bed time doing your hair and nails … telling ghost stories."

She laughed, "How old do you think we are?"

"From ghost stories to drugs, booze and boys?"

"Thought you wanted me to have wildly inappropriate stories that I can't tell my children," she mocked.

"Changed my mind when you met OWEN," he smirked. "So, no boys!!"

"Spoil sport," she mumbled loudly enough for him to hear as she headed upstairs to pack her overnight bag.

"My little girl is growing up --- BUT SHE IS NOT THAT GROWN UP!"

"OK Dad."

~!~!~!~!~!~

Close to 9PM, Beckett rang Castle's door bell. She thought about calling, she thought about sending an email, but she needed to do it in person. Apologies were never easy for her. It wasn't that she didn't mean them it was just typically the people she was apologizing too didn't want to hear it – they were still angry or worse – hurt. She had been unfair to Castle for her own reasons, but unfair is unfair and she didn't like living with that. The gloating was going to be the worst.

"Detective Beckett? This is a surprise." He stepped back to let her in. "Everything OK?" She stepped in and handed him the bag containing her peace offering. "Ooooh … a burger from Paul's? How did you know?"

"I pay attention," she said sheepishly. "They said it was your favorite."

He pulled the burger out, "Didn't know I had just one … but there are two in here."

"I didn't have lunch … or dinner," she owned.

"Then by all means," he led her to the kitchen to plate up the burgers.

"How's the case coming?" he asked with feigned disinterest. He had been in constant contact with Ryan since he left, so he knew everything that was going on.

She paused for a moment looking for the right way to say what she had to say. "So Dr. Parish discovered that –"

"I know," Castle stopped her gently. "I still don't think JT killed himself – probably just an accident - but I never could have foreseen Carroll -- ."

"Carroll Hill has been arrested and Stephanie Hill is on her way back from Massachusetts … Nantucket with a police escort." She took a small bite of her burger. "But you already knew that." She waited to see if he would deny it. He didn't. It was odd that she didn't feel betrayed by either Castle or Ryan, though they were clearly keeping a secret. "Thank you for your help, Castle," she stated clearly. "Couldn't have done it without you."

"Didn't do much," he took a big bite of his burger realizing that he was starving.

"Yes you did," she corrected. "Stephanie will be here by 10AM – do you want to be there when I question her?"

"Maybe not during, but before or after would be appreciated."

"Fine." She put her burger down and wiped her lips and hands. "I'm sorry, Castle."

"Accepted," he took another bite.

"It's not that easy."

"It doesn't have to be that hard," he mumbled and swallowed hard.

"I said some things to you today –"

"Bad Cop / Good Friend … I know the drill." He put his burger down too.

"Why won't you let me do this? Why won't you let me apologize?"

"Because most people apologize to get an apology back – it's ridiculous. Let's just write whatever happened today off to 'heat of the moment.' OK? I'm not proud of what I said either. It was hot, we have been working together quite a bit – it was bound to happen. Now that it has, we can move on." Kate didn't know what she wanted to say, but she didn't want to be let off the hook that easily. "Look I am ready for a break. I am going to be up all night with these edits. Do you want a drink? Martini? Jack Daniels? We could do a couple shots of Tequila? Wine? I have a nice Pinot I have been dying to open," he coaxed.

"Sure."

"Go sit down," he nodded toward the living room.

She got up. He had been working at the dining room table. His papers were spread everywhere. At the end of the table was a tall stack. "How's the book coming?" she asked sneaking a peak at a few of the words on the pages in different stacks.

"Great," he opened the wine. "Should be sending off the last edits to Lesley tonight – well probably closer to tomorrow morning. Due at Dawn!"

"So, noon?" she prodded.

"With any luck." He handed her a glass and was about to propose a toast when his phone in the study rang. "Sorry, need to get that." He touched her glass with his and headed for the study.

For the first time since Castle had been following her around, she had a burning need to know what he wrote about her. She resisted; it would be too embarrassing, too humiliating, too mortifying to think that whatever he wrote about Nikki was really about her. She reminded herself that she was not Nikki Heat. Castle would have had to embellish and change the character to fit his story – Derek Storm was not real. There were a few times when she wondered why he hadn't asked her to read chapters, but assumed it was because she would have said no – which she would have.

She stood and casually looked at the top page of the tallest stack. It was the middle of a chapter. She started at the top and read. It was a love scene like she had never expected – not from Castle, not for Nikki heat. It was raw and real and tender and passionate – and more than a little descriptive – not pornographic, but pretty damn close. Beckett flushed as she read it; her heart raced and her breath quickened. She couldn't help but feel exposed, naked, as if her privacy had been violated. She wanted to stop reading but she couldn't. She told herself that it was not her – it was a character in a novel. But it was so vivid it had to have been real for Castle at least, or worse a fantasy. The scene did not end at the bottom of the page, but she heard Castle wrapping up his phone call. She stepped away from the table and checked that all her buttons were done.

"Sorry," he said easily as if nothing had changed. "Alexis just wanted to tell me that she was … are you alright?" he asked surprised by her obvious transformation.

"Fine!" she snapped.

"You are all flushed … is the wine alright? You do drink red, right?"

"Of course." Kate had forgotten the wine in her hand. "It's nice," she took a big gulp. "Smooth," she choked out.

"Do you need to sit down?"

"No!" she yelped. "I should let you get back to work … just wanted to … you know … bring by a peace offering and thank you."

"No, no … please stay," he urged. "Need to replace all this." He put his hand on the pile of pages that she had just been reading. She winced as if he were touching her. "These are just the outtakes."

"Outtakes?"

He laughed, "The cutting room floor, you might say."

Kate didn't know if she should be insulted, relieved or terrified that what would be finally printed might be worse. "You're not going to mention my name are you?"

"Of course," he nodded slowly. "Need to give credit where credit is due."

"I had nothing to do with that book," she protested a little too vehemently. "Besides, books always reveal more about the author than they do about the subject matter."

"I told you before," he reminded her. "You have nothing to be embarrassed about."

"Smart, savvy and …" she paused for affect. "Kinda slutty?"

"Sex sells, detective," he said easily. "Besides, you're not a prude – I bet you could teach me a thing or two."

She wasn't a prude, but she didn't want people thinking that she and Nikki had anything in common. She didn't want people to think that Castle was writing from FIRST HAND experience. "It's your book, Castle. It's just that … ." She didn't know how to finish.

"The people who know you, know you – and won't confuse you and Nikki Heat – the FICTIONAL character. The people who don't - don't matter."

"Easy for you to say," she moved to the other side of the room. "But I suppose I'm not the first MUSE you have exposed to the world of Castle."

"Not sure what you are getting at," he sat down on the couch and leaned back.

She decided that she didn't want to argue it. Arguing with him was always fruitless. "So when should this masterpiece be hitting book shelves?"

"That is up to marketing, production and distribution. I'm behind getting them the final draft, but I think they have moved ahead with the rest. Who knows, might be Christmas, might be September – hell they might save it for next summer for _**Summer Reading**_. You'll get a copy BEFORE the rest of the world can buy it."

She laughed, "Great, time enough for me to dye my hair and move to Timbuktu."

"You think my books don't sell in Timbuktu?" he grinned. "Come on, Detective. Sit down and finish your wine. It has been a tough week."

She sunk down on the other end of the couch. It had been just over a week ago that she got the call about the doctor found in his car, Sorenson was shot and Castle poked his nose into her business. "Yes it has."

"We should do this more often," Castle moved closer to her.

"This?"

"Talking, drinking, you know … like friends - colleagues."

She just nodded.

Castle pulled his best Humphrey Bogart. "_**So kid,**_ _**Who are you really? And what were you before? What did you do and what did you think? Huh?" **_

"What?"

"Oh come on … Casablanca … classic line."

"I know the line, Castle … I just couldn't place the impression."

"Before you became a cop … what did you want to do?" He saw that she was suspicious. "Not for Nikki, just to know … you know … friends, colleagues … having a drink and talking."

She couldn't help herself. He was charming. "When I was six, I wanted to be a ballerina."

"Never would have pegged you for the Tutu type."

She relaxed as they laughed. "I was going to be a journalist, but on TV, you know."

"I can see that. You would have been good."

"Probably would have been stuck doing puff pieces or the weather."

"Not likely."

"What about you? What would you have done if this writing thing didn't work out?"

"No clue … I have never done anything else. Wrote my first book was I was 8," he looked around. "It is still around here somewhere. And not half bad if I do say so myself."

"I'm sure," she rolled her eyes.

"I don't know … English teacher … or I suppose I could have done something in the theater. Spent a lot of my youth backstage somewhere, so I suppose I would have gone into that."

"I can see you as an actor."

He showed her his _**ruggedly handsome**_ profile. "Yeah, too bad this went to waste huh?"

"A crime," she said sarcastically.

"Ah, would have wound up on Soaps … a good living, but 'emoting and holding' can only take you so far."

"Nah, you are the action hero type … fighting crime and getting the girl." As soon as she said that she flashed on the scene she just read. Again she felt naked, exposed … and oddly aroused. She flushed and looked away. He reached over and touched her arm. A warm electric surge pulsed through her body that she fought to control.

"Hey, are you alright?"

"Fine," she smiled. So, she was attracted to him. So, his writing had gotten to her. So, she had thought about him in more than friendly terms and clearly he had too. It didn't mean she was going to act on it. It didn't mean he would. It did mean that she needed to leave or risk embarrassing herself any more than she already had. "But you have to get back to work … and so do I."

He followed her to the door. She hesitated before exiting. She felt closer to him as if a shared traumatic experience had bonded them. "Thank you again, Castle," she said. "And I really am sorry."

"No need to be … and thank you, Detective Beckett." His eyes were soft and appreciative.

Awkwardly they found that they were shaking hands. It was nice feeling his skin on hers; neither wanted to be the first to release. Rick leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. She turned slightly and their lips met. It was a chaste kiss. Rick was skilled at turning a safe good night kiss into a toe curling, spine tingling marathon of pleasure with a willing partner. Every fiber of his being was telling him that Beckett was willing, but he held back. They had shared enough for one day. Better to savor, to anticipate … to find a better home.

"Good night, Rick." She stepped away without looking back. She too was grateful that nothing more happened because so much already had.

Rick stood over the table trying to get his mind back into work – that wasn't going to be easy. He was more than a little distracted. He looked down at the stack of pages on the table. On top was the love scene that Moore convinced him to 'save.' Something occurred to him. He looked back as his door. Beckett read it! A slow smile spread across his face. "Didn't see that coming," he said to the empty room.

~!~!~!~!~!~


	5. Chapter 5

Castle Fanfiction

Title: **Little Help Here** - Part 5

Written By Lizzie – Summer 2009

~!~!~!~!~!~

"What's the charge?" Castle bolted awake at the sound of the phone. He had nodded off again after 6AM; laptop on lap silently scrolling a reminder that he should be writing; edits not finished. He was more than a little distracted by the day's events and that made slow work of the re-writes; though it did give him some GREAT fodder for the next novel and a character arc for at least six books. The phone rang again. "What's the charge?" he asked again without looking at the number.

"Castle?" Esposito asked.

"Esposito?" He has assumed it was Beckett. "What time is it?" He sat up and put his laptop on the piles of paper and rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand. "What's the charge? For Carroll, what charge? She didn't kill him, it can't be murder. How are you extraditing Stephanie? Don't you need some sort of probable cause or something? Is it really an extradition? Won't taking her across state lines involve Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut and New York cops? You could fly her down, couldn't you? Is there an airport on Nantucket? Well there is one on the Cape."

"Yes, but … We had to …" Esposito tried to interrupt. "It wasn't … She wasn't … I don't …"

"Did you check Carroll's alibi? What about forensics, can they tell if she handled a gun? Too late for that, right? So what's the charge? It has to be against some law to shoot a guy after he is dead, doesn't it? Tampering with evidence? Mutilating a body? Fraud? Guess that would have come later when she tried to collect. What did you find out about the life insurance? Is she the beneficiary? What if it wasn't life insurance, what if it was just … What if she was just pissed off that he killed himself? I still don't think he did. Had to be an accident? Did you find the sleeping pills? What if someone drugged the Tequila? You would think Tequila would kill anything, though right?"

Esposito whistled into the phone. "Time out, Castle."

He sat back. "Sorry."

"My god, bro … Do you always wake up with so many questions?"

"Depends on who's in bed next to me."

"I hear, ya," Esposito agreed. "There was this one time … ah …"

"Yeah, story for another time," Castle agreed. "With a beer or more caffeine."

"Think you've had enough caffeine … what are you doing, mainlining that stuff?"

"Twelve Pack … Monster Energy … since about 7PM last night." He checked is watch. "Damn … Is it really 9AM?"

"9:18 … miss a meeting?"

"No, just a deadline." He yawned and stretched. "Gonna be hell to pay."

"Beckett said you would be done by now and not to bother you until."

"Beckett?"

"Said you wanted to talk to Stephanie Hill … just called to tell you that the woman at the house in Nantucket wasn't a Hill. She was a Clampett."

"Damn, if I were more awake there would be a good limerick in there, but I just can't get it."

"A Beverly Hills Clampett no less."

"Oh now you're just teasing me … tell me her name was Elly May."

"Lana Sue … Lana Sue Clampett from Beverly … Hills that is … swimmin' pools, movie stars."

"Who is Lana Sue Clampett?"

"Best I can tell she was going to be the star of the next big JT RILEY Production … course now she is just an out of work actress."

"Don't tell me … tall, blonde, legs for days and an IQ the size of her bust."

"Ding, Ding, Ding … Johnny tell the man what he was won."

Castle laughed. "You seem in a GOOD mood this morning."

"Beckett is gone for a few days, left me in charge. Got Ryan making copies."

"In the middle of an investigation?"

"Family emergency."

"What family?"

"Her Dad … guess he's sick or something … "

Castle was confused. "When did all this happen?"

"Heard about Stephanie Hill last night around 10 and Beckett got a call in the middle of the night about her Dad. Oh yeah, didn't tell you - Carroll Hill lawyered up with some seven digit suit. She is back on the streets. DA kicked it … said there was not enough to charge her on for 'wrongful discharge of a firearm' … to answer your first question."

"How did Carroll Hill afford a real lawyer … who was it?"

"Milkin … Mullken, somebody or other."

"David Mulligan?" Castle prepped. "She got THE David Mulligan?"

"There might be two … but his shoes were more than I make in six months."

"Oh … something is definitely up."

"How do you know him?"

"JT and I went to school with him … Deerfield … or one of those … He went to Harvard and became a lawyer … top trial attorney in Boston."

"There but for the grace, eh Castle?"

"I didn't have to sell my soul for my paycheck," he jabbed back. "If I remember right … Steph knew him too, but for the life of me I don't remember how." Something occurred to Castle. "He is out of Boston … might want to check that he can practice here, though I am not sure anyone would turn him down."

"I'll get my boy Ryan right on it."

"So where's Beckett?"

"New Haven."

~!~!~!~!~!~

Beckett sat in the waiting room with a cold cup of coffee in her hand. She looked tired, agitated and angry – very, very angry.

"Kate," a voice came from the door way.

Kate turned and looked at the one person most expected and least wanted to see. "Jeff," she said coldly. "Who called you?"

"Ken, Dad's neighbor." He stepped toward her. "You wouldn't have."

"I don't have your number."

"Would it have mattered?"

"Probably not," she looked down in disgust.

"How's he doing?"

"Broken hip … probably a concussion … but he should be fine," she snapped. "Well not fine … his liver is shot, and he needs to quit smoking, but he will survive --- this time."

"He's lost a lot of weight."

"Did you see him?"

"Just for a second, the doctor is still in with him," he said. "Talked to him Monday night … late … after you two -- … you didn't know he was drinking again, did you?"

"Did you?"

"I suspected," he said. "Got a couple of late night phone calls where he wasn't making much sense."

"And you didn't do anything about it?"

"What was I supposed to do?"

She scoffed. "Nothing, you're good at doing NOTHING."

"You can't control him, Kate," Jeff said evenly. "It's his life and …"

"And if he wants to kill himself we should just let him?"

Jeff took a deep breath before he continued. "He told me that you two got into it."

"So you are saying that I drove him to this latest binge?"

"No," Jeff was getting exasperated. "Just that it had something to do with Mom and opening up the investigation again."

Kate got up and moved away. "You don't get to talk to me about that."

There was an uncomfortable pause as Jeff was thinking of what to say next. "Why don't we get out of here? Take a walk. Grab some fresh coffee. You look like hell."

"Thanks Jeff … you on the other hand look like you are ready to step into the pages of GQ."

"Things have turned around for me."

"I heard."

More silence as Jeff was hoping Kate would open some line of dialogue. When he was sure she wasn't he exposed the old wound. "It wasn't my fault, Kate," he said. "You can't hold me responsible for something –"

"She wouldn't have there if it weren't for you," she snapped back. "She wouldn't have been anywhere near that place if she didn't need to bail her first born son out AGAIN!"

"She was in the wrong place at the wrong time … it's tragic."

"Tragic? You call our mother being murdered tragic? Tragic -- Like it was just some hurricane or earthquake that you hear about on TV happening halfway around the world. Tragic? You are a cold bastard."

"Kate –"

"She was our mother! And she was murdered because you - " She stopped herself. It was pointless.

"It was ten years ago, Kate … you need to deal with this."

"I have dealt with it … and part of dealing with it was excluding you from my life." She stormed away.

Jeff Beckett shook his head, checked his watch and pulled his phone from his coat pocket. "Hey … yeah, no nothing … gonna be fine. Well as good as can be expected. … She's here … no … no … I tried … Only so much I can do. … No, I don't. … Please don't. … I'll take care of it. … I will. … Did he call? … Fine, call me as soon as he does. … I will handle this – if there is anything to handle."

~!~!~!~!~!~

Castle stood in the observation room with an amazed look on his face. He had arrived at the precinct around 5:00PM. He would have been there earlier, a lot earlier, but Lesley Moore was waiting outside his apartment and would not let him leave until the edits were done. Castle had tried every trick in the book including pulling the fire alarm, but Moore was unmovable. Interestingly enough, Castle did do the edits and some that they hadn't talked about and it was some of the best writing and story changes he had ever made. He concluded that he worked better under pressure; Moore was not as impressed with his discovery. Ryan walked in and handed him a soda; Esposito followed directly after. "How long as she been like this?" Castle asked.

"Since she got here … about two hours ago … feels like fifteen."

Castle looked back at a hysterical woman sitting alone in the interrogation room. She was sobbing and crying out. _OH GOD … HOW DID THIS HAPPEN? JASON!! JASON I LOVE YOU!!! I CAN'T GO ON WITHOUT YOU!!_ At which point she would break down again. She was inconsolable or at least had been.

"Did you get your work done?" Esposito asked.

"_**Heat Wave**_ … aka Nikki Heat Vol 1 has been put to bed!"

"Bed huh?" Ryan let a sly smile cross his face. He had a bet in the pool that the writer and his muse would hit the sheets after the book came out. Esposito's first pick had already come and gone, so he had to drop some more into the pot. He was in for the night of the book release. Lanie, the practical one with inside knowledge wasn't saying much, but she had bet down for the holidays. The pot was getting pretty big. Ryan was beginning to wonder if Castle would ever make his move.

"Should I try?" Castle asked. Ryan turned to him surprised that he would be asking advice about Beckett. Castle had no idea what that look was for, but thought clarification was in order. "To console her, should I try?"

"Be my guest … about ready to call a doctor … or the men in the white coats."

"Has she been arrested?"

"What for? Being annoying? She came in on her own; we just put her in interrogation because she was bothering the real criminals."

"What's her name again? Elly May? Daisy Lu? Betty Boop?"

"Lana Sue."

Castle walked into interrogation. Lana looked up holding her sob. "Who are you?" she squeaked out.

"I am Richard Castle … I was a friend of JT's … Jason's."

She threw herself into his arms and the sobbing recommenced. Castle just looked at the window pathetically. Esposito passed Ryan a fiver.

~!~!~!~!~!~

Ryan and Esposito walked into the bull pen late the next morning; they had gone for breakfast. To their surprise, Beckett was there pulling down the stuff from the murder board. "OK kids," she said harshly. "Play time is over, time to get back to work."

"Then what are you doing?"

"The Riley case is not a murder, not our business." She covered the box. "Turn this over to Fraud."

"What about Castle?" Esposito asked.

"If he wants to follow the case," she snapped. "He can follow Lockheed in fraud – I am sure the mayor can get him in." Esposito and Ryan both shuttered at the idea of working with Agnes Lockheed. She could make Attila the Hun curl up in to a fetal position and suck his thumb. Esposito, seeing his opportunity to get out of Beckett's line of fire took the box down to Fraud. Ryan sat and watched her from the corner of his eye. "Something on your mind, Ryan?"

"Your Dad OK?"

"Broken hip … but he will survive." She was pushing files across her desk and Ryan waited. "What?"

"Nothing," he turned away. "Castle finished the book."

"Good … guess that means his time here is done."

"Have you read it?" Ryan asked.

She looked up at him harshly. "What? No, I didn't read it. Why?"

"I don't know … I'd be curious if I were you," he defended. "Hell, I am curious to see how I turned out."

"What makes you think you're in it?"

"We had a couple of beers last night to celebrate – he said that we were all in it."

"Well, don't get your hopes up … you probably won't recognize yourself. Can't believe that Nikki Heat and I have anything in common."

"Is that a slight on my writing ability," Castle's voice came from behind her. "Or wishful thinking."

"Take your pick," she didn't look up at him. "So what are you doing here Castle? I hear the book is done – shouldn't you be on vacation somewhere: Acapulco, New Zealand, Atlantic City celebrating."

"No rest for the wicked, Detective." He sat down in her guest chair. "Already started on Vol 2 – _**Heat Afterhours**_," he grinned.

She flashed on the scene she had read and felt her face flush. She needed to get him out of her life. "Then, you should get back to it," she said evenly. "Don't want to miss another deadline."

"I understand that your father took sick," he said gently assuming that her mood was not really about him. "Are you OK?"

"My father will be fine," she snapped. "He fell, broke his hip … but he will be fine."

"Didn't ask about him; I asked about you."

"Nothing wrong with me," she finally looked at him and glared. "We are done on the Riley investigation. I am sorry for your loss."

"I know … saw Esposito coming in," he said. "Do you really think you can get rid of me by turning me over to Agnes _**Ball Buster**_ Lockheed?"

"I am sure that you will have no trouble charming the pants off of her."

"Isn't she the one that looks like Hitler, with a thicker mustache?"

"I heard she was a man," Ryan added.

"Today's just paperwork, Castle," she nodded toward the door. "Nothing to see here."

"If I didn't know better, Detective," he drawled. "I would think you were trying to get rid of me."

"Wow, you just picked up on that, did you?"

"Something else happened," he said softly. "This wasn't just a simple accident … with your Dad."

She looked up at him and wanted to blast in into next week. He was intrusive, arrogant and relentless – everything she hated in a man. It would be so easy to take him down a peg or two, to wipe that smug, egotistical, haughty smile off his face. He thought he knew her. He thought he understood her from the moment they met – well from the moment he deigned to ask himself 'Who is Kate Beckett?' He wrote a book using her life as guide, because he knew her so well. HA!! He didn't know a DAMN THING. It was a lucky guess that he knew being a cop wasn't her first career choice. She had no more intention of being a cop than she did being an astronaut, a belly dancer or a marine biologist. And luckier still when he guessed that it had something to do with the loss of someone close to her. But she didn't become a cop simply because she couldn't LIVE with the fact that a murderer was not brought to justice. There were many other contributing factors; people in her life, people Castle hadn't even begun to suspect. They had influences on her choices – one in particular. As for the murder of her mother – while the most horrific thing to happen in Kate's life thus far, it wasn't the first bad thing to happen. Life was not all sunlight and roses before. Her father hadn't SUDDENLY taken up drinking after the murder. And her mother was no Clair Huxtable. The dinner that was planned that night was not a normal happy family dinner with a daughter home from college, it was one more time of Kate trying to reconcile the family which had about as much chance of succeeding as the other hundred or so times she had tried. And the reservation was not for three it was for four and her mother wasn't the only one who did not show up.

"Kate?"came a voice from right behind Castle.

Kate looked up; irritation washed with anger and disgust. "What are you doing here?"

Castle looked up at the stranger who had caused such a reaction. He was a man about Castle's age, maybe a little bit older. He was very well dressed and had the same incredible green eyes that Beckett had. Castle stood up quickly to face the man. "Richard Castle," he said extending his hand.

"Ah yes," said the stranger. "The writer … I read your book," he admitted reluctantly. "Jeffrey Beckett." He shook Castle's hand with near bone crushing strength. "I am Kate's brother."

"Didn't know our Detective had a brother," he looked back at Kate with a pained smile. The vice-grip was cutting off circulation to his hand.

"Don't think she talks too much about her personal life," Jeff sneered.

"Come on Castle," Ryan interrupted. "I'll take you down to meet Lockheed."

Castle started to protest, but saw the look on Beckett's face and left peacefully.

"I wouldn't have come to your work, Kate, but it was the only place I knew you would talk to me."

"Can't believe you had the balls to walk in to a Police Station, Jeff."

"Straight and narrow," he professed.

"What? What do you want?"

"It's about Dad. The doctor thinks he shouldn't be living by himself anymore."

"You expect me to take him in? I work 20 hours a day six days a week."

"I can take him. My house is pretty big and is modern enough to handle a wheelchair."

She snickered at the ludicrousness of the idea. "You are going to take care of him?"

"I will hire a nurse or companion … a care giver, whatever he needs."

She shrugged. "Fine - if that is what Dad wants."

"Well, Dad wants to make sure that if he moves in with me it won't be the last time he sees you."

So it was a ambush her brother and father were planning.

~!~!~!~!~!~

The end of the day rolled in around 5PM for Beckett. She had stayed occupied all day but was more than ready to go home and sleep. The hot evening sun blinded her as she exited the building. She didn't see that he was waiting for her. She headed for the subway trying to shake off the day – the last couple of days.

"So, how about dinner," Castle said when he stepped up to keep pace with her.

"Not tonight, Castle." She sped up her pace.

He thought about letting her go, and changed his mind. "Know this great little out of the way place … has a wine list to kill for and steaks so prime they melt in your mouth … better than just Kobe … Wagyu Beef – real imported Wagyu Beef ... all the way from Japan." Kate kept walking. "My treat," he urged.

She stopped at looked at him. "Why?"

"The book is done … put to bed as it were … I want to celebrate and who better to celebrate with than my --."

"You say MUSE and I _**WILL**_ break both your legs," she warned.

"My inspiration and – friend? … come on," he urged again. "Let me say thank you … besides you look like you could use a piece of red meat."

She couldn't help but laugh. "Oh Castle … don't you have a daughter who needs you?"

"Put her on a plane this morning to visit her mom, for a month."

"A month?"

"She'll be back in a week … Meredith is the one with attention span issues."

"What about the 100 or so other women you have on speed dial? Can't you celebrate with one of them?"

"Wouldn't be the same," he saw that she was weakening. "They have a killer flourless chocolate cake with a raspberry sauce too."

"Ok … Ok. I'll go."

Castle could barely contain his smile and waved to a limo that was standing by on his command. "You're going to love this place," he said as he poured her a glass of champagne. "Great view of the ocean."

"Ocean? Where are you taking me?"

"Dinner."

"Castle, where is this place?"

"It is a little out of the way … kind of secluded … not too many people know about it … very select clientele."

"Castle! The name and location."

"Well … the name … well it has a name, but I don't think you know it. The location, hmm … well, it's a little outside the city limits."

"How little?"

"Montauk," he shrugged.

"LONG ISLAND? The end of Long Island … we are going to drive from the city to Montauk for dinner."

"Drive? No, of course not … we'll fly." He nodded to the gates of the Port Authority with a helicopter warming up on the pad.

"You're kidding me," she was flabbergasted.

"You aren't afraid of flying in helicopters, are you?" he challenged. "I know some people who are, but …"

"No," she gulped. She wasn't fond of heights and she had never actually been in a helicopter before, but she wasn't about to tell him that. "You still haven't told me where we are going."

"I have a house out there," he said reluctantly.

"Excuse me?"

"Not huge … only four bedrooms and some guest quarters … you know … same old, same old … view of the ocean, walk to the beach. It is small compared to some … only about 7000 – 7500 square feet … in the main house."

"What?"

He finally let his smile spread across his whole face. "Are you impressed?"

"I'll let you know when I get there."

"Oh come on, a little impressed … limo, champagne, helicopter."

"How much **do** you make off this writing thing of yours?"

He shrugged. "I'm comfortable. And the dinner will be everything I said it will be. I know the chef personally."

"Oh you know the chef?" she challenged. "You are gonna slap a couple of burger on a hibachi aren't you?"

"Something like that."

She was just about to get out of the car and turned to him. "Just dinner, right?"

"Why Detective Beckett," he feign innocence. "What kind of man do you take me for?"

"I know exactly the kind of man you are and I'm not going."

He laughed again. "No, no, no … Just dinner … trust me." He got out of the limo and put his hand out to her. "Your honor is safe … you'll be back no later than midnight … 9 … 10 … 11AM at the absolute outside."

"Castle."

"Kidding. We can come back tonight if you want … but sunrise at this place is _**totally awesome**_. If we hurry we could make sunset too."

Kate pondered for a moment and finally decided 'what the hell.' She was a big girl; she could protect herself … if she wanted to … and if she didn't … what the hell. "I like my meat medium rare to the rare side," she said.

"I knew that about you."


	6. Chapter 6

Castle Fanfiction

Title: **Little Help Here** - Part 6

Written By Lizzie – Summer 2009

~!~!~!~!~!~

Lanie found Kate in line for coffee the next morning. "Hey, Lady," she called. "You OK?"

"Sure, why wouldn't I be?"

"Your Dad?" Lanie pressed. "Your Brother?"

"Yeah, well," she hedged. "There you go."

"Spill it, girl … what's going on?"

"Dad's drinking again, apparently, fell down, broke his hip, now he is going to live with Jeff in Philadelphia."

"You OK with that?"

"There are phone lines to Philly just like there are phone lines to New Haven," she dismissed.

"Fine, you don't want to talk about it," Lanie dismissed. "We won't talk about it."

"Lanie," she cajoled. "There's nothing to talk about."

"Right … fine … when you change your mind, you know where to find me."

"Thank you," Kate smiled.

"Where were you last night?" Lanie asked innocently.

"Last night?" Kate turned away quickly. "Boy this line is slow today."

"Uh huh," Lanie knew right away that SOMETHING had happened or Kate wouldn't have been so quick to change the subject.

"What? Nothing … nothing happened last night."

"Let me guess …. Writer-boy was involved?"

Kate looked around to be sure that Lanie wasn't overheard. "It was no big deal," Kate defended weakly. "We had dinner."

"Dinner?" she was impressed. "Dinner's good … Can I assume that it wasn't sharing a pizza over case notes?"

"He finished his book."

"Rick finished his book?" the girl behind the counter asked. All the others (men, women, boys and girls behind and in front of the counter) all fixed their eyes on Kate. "Does that mean he won't be coming around anymore?" The others echoed similar questions and concerns.

Kate felt her face flush. "**Mr.** Castle goes where and when he pleases. Grande Skim Latte," she ordered.

The girl frowned and the rest went back to what they were doing. "Pastry?" the girl asked curtly clearly knowing Beckett's routine. "The lemon bars are fresh"

"No, thanks." Kate hated being predictable particularly to the coffee girl and hated more that the whole shop knew her business. "Just the coffee. Lanie?" She turned to her friend to order.

The girl behind the counter groaned, "Coffee … black … I got it."

Lanie gave her a look that would have sunk lesser people to their knees before turning her attention back to Kate. "So dinner, huh? Where did he take you?"

"Nowhere," she dismissed, lowered her voice and did the best she could to get out of ear shot of EVERYBODY. "He cooked."

"Oh Ho … he cooked, huh? Just the two of you?" Beckett nodded and shrugged dismissively. "Alone in his apartment in the sky? What's the sunrise like from up there or didn't you notice?"

"No," Kate defended. "It wasn't … we didn't … He has a house." She was sorry she mentioned the house as soon as the word left her mouth. She grabbed her coffee and headed for the door forgetting all about her vanilla flavoring or the packet of raw sugar she always snuck in when no one was looking.

Lanie followed. "Of course he does … I'm sure he has two or three with all his money."

"He's not like that. He's pretty down to earth … a good dad, you know. Grounded."

"Grounded? A good dad? Is this the same guy you were calling egotistical, self-centered, annoying?"

"I know … he acts like one of those entitled, super rich bad boys; the kind of guy that needs to be seen in all the trendiest places with a different girl every night."

"And now you know different," she proposed.

"It's not really who he is. He typically stays home with his daughter. He isn't a home body … I don't know … I guess … I suppose he's like a kid with a VIP pass at Disneyland … but a good kid, you know … generous … a good guy."

"That was some dinner."

Kate realized that Lanie was implying that it was more than dinner. "Nothing happened," she protested.

"Was that his choice or yours?"

"No … it wasn't … we didn't … it didn't," she got exasperated defending the NOTHING that happened. "He fell asleep."

"He fell asleep? Where?"

"After dinner … on the beach. We were talking ---."

"On the beach?" Lanie was intrigued. "Where is this house?"

"Montauk."

"Oh No … you are NOT serious … you drove out to Montauk for dinner last night and you are trying to tell me nothing happened?"

"Actually we flew … in a helicopter."

"And he fell asleep." Clearly Lanie was not buying this story.

"Good morning Dr. Parish, Detective," Castle said as he approached coffee in hand from the shop where they just were. Clearly they had his order ready for him.

Kate looked at Lanie warning her not to bring the subject of the prior evening up. "Mr. Castle … always nice to see you."

"And to be seen by two of New York's Finest," he smiled back. Turning to Beckett, "And let me apologize again for last night, Detective. Caffeine crash … my only excuse … was up for two days to finish the book and guess it all just hit me. Not as young as I used to be," he flashed a disarming smile.

"No worries, Castle," she said. "Thank you for dinner."

"My pleasure. I need to get in there," he nodded to the precinct. "Have an appointment with Attila The Lockheed. Get the feeling when she says 10:08 … she means 10:08." He ran up the stairs taking them two at a time.

"Well, at least you have your stories straight," Lanie smirked.

"Get your mind out of the gutter," Kate warned playfully and started up the stairs with Lanie following along.

"You know I will need details … all of them," Lanie pushed.

"The details of nothing?" Beckett's eye caught something that made her stop in her tracks. Lanie nearly plowed into her. She followed her friend's eye and saw Castle standing very close to a strikingly beautiful, buxom woman about 15 years his junior with legs that went on for days and a skirt that did not – and she was a red head. He was signing something as she fawned and giggled insipidly. The elevator arrived; the woman linked her arm through Castle's and they stepped in closing the doors quickly behind them. Castle never took his eyes from her ample clea - … well he never broke eye contact.

"Looks like that VIP Pass is ALL ACCESS," Lanie jabbed.

Beckett didn't respond to her comment, but clearly agreed. "See ya later." She didn't wait for the elevator; had some energy to release and the stairs were just the ticket.

~!~!~!~!~!~

Kate was working at her desk – rather trying to work. She never did like the paperwork portion of the job and that morning there were more than a few distractions. "Detective Beckett?" came a voice from the other side of the room. Kate looked up and a woman was being directed toward her. "Detective Beckett?" The woman extended her hand. "I am Lesley Moore, I work for Black Pawn and I am representing Richard Castle and _**Heat Wave**_." Kate offered the woman a seat. "I am sorry to bother you at work, but I had a couple of questions for you and our legal department wants me to clear a couple of things up. Is this really the best place we can talk?"

"This is fine," Kate said curtly. "How can I help you?"

"I would like to start by saying that it is very nice to meet you. Mr. Castle has spoken very highly of you and it is clear from his work how much he respects you as a person and the job you are doing for the city of New York."

"Thank you," Kate said warily.

"Let's get the legal matters out of the way first," she softly. "We have a signed waiver from the city for Rick – Mr. Castle to do his research with you and your team, a copy of the novel was just given to the legal department for review as a courtesy so they might prepare for any backlash that the novel might generate. Between you and me, I think the department was represented very, very well."

"Good. There are hundreds of dedicated people working for the NYPD, Ms. Moore and I would hate to think that something untrue or unnecessarily derogatory would be said or construed from the next NOVEL from Richard Castle." She emphasized _**novel**_ in such a way that let Moore know she trusted people would know fact from fiction.

Moore just smiled. "I would like to offer you the same opportunity," Moore said quickly. "Please understand the book is locked. It is literally on its way to print and should be out in September. There will be no further changes. But I would like to give you the opportunity to read it before it is on sale to the general public, indeed before we give it to the critics."

"So I can prepare for a backlash?"

Moore laughed a little but that was exactly what she meant. "Well it hasn't been a secret that Rick has been observing you and your team for several months, it will be mentioned in the promotion and frankly I can see most morning talk shows wanting to have an interview with you – and maybe even you and Rick."

"I doubt that."

"I don't," she pressed. "Detective, you are used to working away from the spotlight – society does that to our police, fire and other civil servants – the real heroes. And they tend to chew up and spit out their celebrity heroes. Rick has been living that life for years now. He knows how to protect his family, his privacy when needed. As a cop I assume that you also know how protect yourself, but it is a different kind of protection. Depending upon how this plays out – and I for one am hoping that it plays out very well – you could be in the spot light for years. When he actually sits down to write, he is very prolific and there will be more Nikki Heat coming out in the future."

Moore had a point. "I would prefer that my name, my full name, not be in the book anywhere."

"The city has already given authorization for us to solicit you during the promotion."

Kate looked up at the captain's office. "They have, have they?"

"Yes," she told her and waited for Kate to think about her next move.

"Does Castle know you are here and offering to let me read his work?"

"No, but I will tell him if that makes you more comfortable."

A scene flashed back to Kate, the scene she read on the kitchen table at Castle's house, the love scene. Kate didn't like people knowing about her private life even if it was drawn from a fictional representation. People would assume that she and Nikki were one and the same. People would assume … assume what exactly? Kate didn't know what was in the book to know how to defend or shield herself. Did it matter? If Nikki Heat were an exact copy of Beckett, or worse her evil twin, would it matter? People would still think that Nikki was her. "Thank you for the offer, Ms. Moore, but I have to decline."

"May I ask why?"

"No," Beckett rose to encourage Lesley Moore to leave.

"If you change your mind," she handed Kate a card.

"Thank you, but I won't." Kate watched Moore leave wondering what Castle saw in her that made her his SOUL MATE. Another thought occurred to her. If Castle continued to invade her life, how would their relationship change after the book was released? Whether that scene or one like it was in the book or not, he will have disclosed – in writing – how he viewed Kate and not just sexually. How personal did he get? How close did he get to revealing aspects of Kate that she didn't want exposed. In any case, she needed Castle to make the offer before she read it. It was his book. She put the card down on her desk and went back to work with ONE MORE distraction on her mind to slow down productivity.

~!~!~!~!~!~

Several hours later Castle and Detective Lockheed stepped off the elevator laughing about something or other and as _**luck**_ would have it Kate was walking by. "Ok Ricky, I will get back to you as soon as I know ANYTHING … and please don't hesitate to call me if you think of anything or just want to see how we are coming along … or for any other reason."

"Thanks Aggie … you're a gem, a genuine 50 carat gem. And I will contact you when I am outlining Book 2 for Nikki Heat … you have some great ideas."

"Oh Ricky," she slapped at his arm and stepped back on to the elevator.

"Oh brother," Kate couldn't help herself.

"Aggie is terrific," he followed her to her desk. "All the women here are."

"Excuse me?" Esposito feigned hurt.

"You know what I mean," Castle shrugged.

"You are telling me that you got Lock-Lipped Lockheed to give you information?" Ryan was stunned.

"More than that … I am consulting."

"Incredible," Esposito shook his head.

"He's my hero," Ryan added.

"Nothing to it. Women are just like people, guys," Castle explained proudly. "You just have to know how to say what they need to hear when they need to hear it," he said. "You can't beat a well timed compliment for opening all kinds of doors." Beckett picked up the files she was working on and headed for the door; she didn't bother to roll her eyes. Ryan and Esposito shared a look. "What?" Castle asked. "Something I said?" They looked away. "What? I didn't mean Beckett," he protested. "She's not … She isn't --."

"She's not a woman?" Esposito coaxed.

"No, of course she is … but …"

"You never gave her a _**well timed compliment**_ to open a door?" Esposito left not waiting for the answer.

"More like open mouth, insert Ferragamo, or are those Lobb's" Ryan said slapping him on the back and following after Beckett and Esposito.

Castle slumped down onto the desk. Something else to smooth over, but he really didn't mean it about Beckett. In his line of 'work' he needed to know how and when to WORK a research subject – man or woman - to get what he needed. Beckett did it all the time with her suspects – not really with compliments, but it was the same idea. She lied to get them to say what they were trying desperately not to say. She had to understand that concept. So something else was off with her. Why didn't she say anything? She was good with a comeback – it was what they did: banter. Why did she just walk out? That was not like her.

Castle thought back to the night before. It was nice; it was really, really nice. He wanted to give her a little break from reality. He didn't know all the details of what was going on with her, her father or her brother, but he knew she was tense and could use a little TLC. He had no other agenda – seriously. They arrived at his house. She was duly impressed. He took credit of course but the fact was he bought the house AS WAS when the bottom fell out of the market assuming that it would come back eventually and he had time to wait. They had drinks and a stroll on the beach as the sun set. They talked about a lot of different things but nothing really earth shattering, work related or her family related. He made a great dinner (if he did say so himself) and they talked and laughed about all kinds of safe subjects. She kept bringing the topic back to his favorite: Alexis. He was very proud of his daughter and he didn't mind talking to anyone who was willing to listen about his little girl. It wasn't anything specific but he got the impression that Kate's experience with her own father was not good. In fact it seemed that he might have had the wrong impression of her background. It wasn't as unaffected as he had originally thought. After dinner, they build a bonfire on the beach, looked at the stars and listened to the waves. It was no wonder he fell asleep. He woke to her standing over him dripping wet wrapped in his bathrobe. She had apparently taken a predawn swim in the buff and he missed it. Clearly timing was going to be an issue for Castle and Beckett – if indeed there was ever to be a Castle/Beckett. But they left on good terms and things were fine. No, it was something else that made her get up and leave so abruptly.

"Hendershod – PI to the Stars!" he announced into the phone. "What did you find out?"

"Don't you have friends in the PD that can do this for you Castle?" the voice on the line asked.

"Can't play all those cards at once my man. What did you get?"

"Got a Stephanie Mulligan living in Boston. Nothing else. Just an address – pretty nice one too."

"Good enough." Castle took down the address. "Thanks, H … dinner on me, next week."

"How about you just pay your bill and we will call it even."

"Fine, Fine … thanks again." Castle thought about calling Beckett and the Boys, but changed his mind. The idea of contacting Lockheed never crossed his mind. He called his travel agent for the next flight to Boston. As he was waiting for the confirmation of his flights, he noticed a card tucked under some papers. It was from Black Pawn. He edged it out enough to see MOORE as the name on the card. Hmm, so Lesley Moore had been to see Beckett. That was an interesting development. He made a mental note to find out what that was all about.

~!~!~!~!~!~

"Beckett," she barked into the phone.

"Hi baby, it's Daddy."

"Hi Dad, how are you feeling."

"I'm better, not quite so out of it," he said. There was a paused as he struggled with the words he wanted to say. "I'm sorry honey."

"I'm sorry too, Dad."

"It was just that once … you know … I mean … I haven't started drinking again … not even a little bit."

"Ok Dad."

"I know you don't believe me."

"I want to … I want you to be safe."

"I will be … I will be down at Jeff's." Kate nodded but didn't say anything. "Will you come see me?"

"Sure I will … I'm in the middle of a case right now," she scanned the stack of closed files on her desk that she was finishing up. "But I will soon and if you need anything, just call."

"Kate," he hesitated. "I need you to resolve your differences with your brother. He is willing."

"Dad …" she held her tongue.

"Please Kate. I am not going to live forever and I would really like to see my children –"

"Dad, I gotta go."

"Ok, Katie. I love you."

"Yeah, talk soon." She snapped her phone shut and thought about tossing it across the room. She could feel that her face was hot and tears were welling up in her eyes.

"Beckett!!" Ryan called from the doorway. "We got a dead body."

'Thank God!' she thought. 'Something else to think about.'

~!~!~!~!~!~

Beckett was working the crime scene when Castle called. "Where are you?" he asked.

"Working, what do you want?" she said gruffly. She was really beginning to wonder exactly how long he was going to be hanging around her work and her life. _**The book is done – time for another muse, **_she thought.

"I found Stephanie and she has some very interesting things to say about JT's untimely death."

"It was ruled a suicide or accidental suicide by the ME – not my business, not my case, not my concern."

"And we both know that ME's can never be wrong."

"Dr Parish is --."

"I'm not questioning the findings, just the conclusions. JT never took sleeping pills … or any drugs … some pill-phobia … he wouldn't take a vitamin or an aspirin. Did you find the bottle on the desk?"

"No." That was something that had gnawed at the back of her mind.

"If you check, you will not find any drugs in his house at all."

"He wouldn't be the first person to take someone else's drugs … Carroll's for example, particularly if he were trying to kill himself or just get some sleep."

"He would not do it consciously. Someone had to slip them to him or maybe inject him with it."

"You've been reading too many of your books."

"I'm bringing Stephanie back with me. Can you get Carroll to the precinct? I think they should talk and I think we should be listening. Oh … gotta go … I will be there in a couple of hours."

With that he was gone. Beckett didn't want to dig back into that case, but Castle had a sense about these things. It could be that he was just lucky in detective work too. Something Kate was never able to say.

"Esposito," she called. "When we are done here, pick up Carroll Hill – and her lawyer and bring them in for some follow up questions."

~!~!~!~!~!~

~!~!~!~!~!~

~!~!~!~!~!~

~!~!~!~!~!~

A/N: One more coming at you before the Season 2 Premiere. Some things will be resolved and some won't, just so you know.


	7. Chapter 7

Castle Fanfiction

Title: **Little Help Here** - Part 7

Written By Lizzie – Summer 2009

~!~!~!~!~!~

On the flight back from Boston, Castle excused himself from Stephanie and wandered up to the airplane 'kitchen' to use the air-phone. The in-flight attendants in First Class were always no nice to him. He often wondered why people didn't like to fly – he loved it. They poured him another drink and left to give him some privacy. The idea that Moore had gone to see Kate without his knowledge had been bothering him since he discovered her card. Maybe something she said got Kate so … so off. Their relationship could go a number of different ways. He was just barely hanging on. If pressed he wouldn't be able to say what exactly he was hanging on to or for, but he didn't want to jeopardize whatever it was or could be. He needed to do damage control and information gathering was in order.

"Les is Moore," he said jovially when Lesley Moore picked up, "Rick Castle … of course you do … you are getting pretty familiar with everything about me aren't you?" His joviality was turning a bit harsh. Moments before the call was answered, he made an impulsive decision to take a page out of Beckett's book – for a change – and put his new editor on her heels. "I see that you made a visit to Detective Beckett," he said snappishly. "A _**courtesy call**_??? What prompted that? … I think I have a right to be _**put out**_ as she is my resource. … The book! … Who suggested that you do that? … Took it upon yourself, did you? … You didn't think to run this past me? … You didn't think that maybe it should come from me? … Or that maybe I didn't want her to read the book as yet? … Ms. Moore, I am sure there are a ton of things about me that make your job harder, so let this be one more: if you ever contact one of my sources again without my knowledge, my permission – without me asking you to, the closest you will get to a book of mine will be buying a copy at a Barnes & Noble. … 'Kay?"

She agreed and he hung up; immediately feeling badly. He was never that hard on people. He didn't like it. It made him feel mean and Castle was anything but mean. It gave him a new appreciation for PRE-Detective Beckett vis-à-vis POST-Detective Beckett. Kate was probably not mean either in her youth. She was probably a sweet, nice, fun loving girl - young woman; not guarded and suspicious. She probably had friends and dates and a future to look forward to that didn't involve death and murder. She could have gone through life oblivious to the dark ugly side of the city that turned otherwise happy people hard, suspicious and mean. She had family who loved ---

At that Castle stopped his assuming. Kate's Family! Did he know anything about her father or her mother other than what he read in the case file? What was their family like? Her home life from zero to thirteen, seventeen, twenty-one, the day before her mother was murdered? The day after? Her father was a drinker but did he drink before? Was he a drunk or just a self-medicator? Was he mean when he drank? Belligerent? Violent? Or did he just fall asleep? How did her mother react? Was she a nag, a shrew, or did she drink with him? Did the parents love each other or were they staying together for the kids? Kids? Right – there were two kids in the Beckett household. Where did the brother come from? Where did he go? He was older than Kate, but there must have been a reason she hadn't mentioned him before. Or not – Kate hadn't mentioned much of ANYTHING about her past. There was so much he didn't know about her and as he thought about it Nikki was really nothing like her. A bare bones skeleton was all they really had in common. Kate was so much more interesting; more mystery than he had written. She was a real mystery that he had to - nay, _**wanted**_ to unfold – unfold without the guise of the next Nikki Heat novel. That would be a bit tricky.

Before he sat back down to muse on his muse he called Lesley to apologize. She took it like a pro. One would have thought she had been working with temperamental writers for years. "No, just teenagers," she commented before she hung up.

~!~!~!~!~!~

Jeff Beckett was ushered into Pavlos "Papa" Papadakis' office and stood anxiously waiting for the man to turn his attention toward him. He shifted his weight from foot to foot looking out over Biscayne Bay hoping that the interview would be quick and easy. It was hard to tell with Papa. Jeff was a 40 year old man who never felt older than 17 in the presence of Papa.

"How was your flight?" his voice thick with cigar smoke. He was a small man with large hands that had seen hard work many years ago but now were manicured and soft. He had thick wavy hair that was a little too long for a man his age, a thick mustache with more gray than black, and a broad toothy smile that always made Jeff think of Jaws. His dark eyes were set deeply into his bronzed face and could bore holes in a person's soul. "I am sorry to pull you away from Philadelphia, but a trip to Florida is always a bit of a vacation, yes?" He got up to pour two glasses of Ouzo.

"Yes, sir," Jeff agreed quickly.

"When your father is well again," he handed Jeff a glass, "you must come back for an extended vacation … take the boat out … do a little deep sea fishing … enjoy a bit of the Miami nightlife, yes?"

"Thank you sir, my father would really enjoy that." Jeff had no idea what his father would enjoy; they hadn't spoke in years.

"Long Life," Papa said and drained his glass. "Family is very important, Jeffrey," he said cryptically. "You know I have always looked on you as another son … even before the accident."

Jeff controlled his shuttered at the use of the word _**accident**_. "Yes sir, you have been more than generous and kind to me."

"You deserve it, you are a good and loyal son," he placed a meaty paw on Jeff's shoulder. "But you also have a real family … a blood family … to whom you must also be loyal. I understand that. I appreciate that. If you did not love your blood, it would … concern me."

Jeff remained silent. He knew where the conversation was going and didn't have anything new to add.

"Sometimes loving your blood is very hard," Papa said cryptically. "Your sister is still a cop in New York?" Papa walked back around the other side of the desk. He was so much more imposing behind his desk.

"Yes sir, a detective," Jeff said reluctantly.

"You and she do not talk much, I understand."

Jeff hesitated. "We are 11 years apart and didn't really spend too much time together growing up," he lied. "We have different interests."

The older man let out a deep belly laugh that was more than a little forced. "Ha, Ha … yes, different interests. Well, I do not always find common ground with my sisters either – they are women after all. Maybe you could bring her with you … when you come back for your vacation with your father."

"Of course," Jeff said quickly. Papa didn't need to say more. The message was subtle, it was non-confrontational and it was very, very clear. _**Get your sister under control**_. There was no '_**or else**_.'

"Business is good, yes?" Papa changed the subject as he was sure his message was received.

"Business is very good. You will be receiving the monthly … statement today or tomorrow."

"Of course, of course ... Trust, Jeff … that is what you and I have … trust … built on a decade … more than a decade of history. It heartens me that we were able to build such trust out of such a tragedy."

"Yes, sir," Jeff agreed.

"_**Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong**_," Papa repeated. "Gandhi … very wise man."

"Yes, sir."

"Stay for lunch," Papa ordered. "You can catch the next flight back."

"Thank you, sir."

~!~!~!~!~!~

Beckett walked into the bullpen to see Castle sitting at her desk with a blonde in the guest chair. He was leaning in and they were laughing easily with each other. Kate wasn't sure why, but it bothered her. Pretty much everything about Castle was bothering her that day but particularly his unaffected _joie de vivre_. Nothing seemed to bother him, nothing seemed to get to him, nothing seemed to ever knock him down. Nothing affected his – good or bad. What really bothered her was that nothing seemed to stick with him. He was all about whatever or whoever was in front of him at the moment – toys, games, men women -- love the one you're with, the rest were out of sight, out of mind. Talk about opposites attracting. Not that she was ATTRACTED to him. Well, she was in a way; he was infectious – like the flu. Something she did not want to catch but despite best efforts it was unavoidable. She wondered if there was a pill for that.

Castle leaned back upon seeing Kate, and the blonde followed suit. Then they stood in unison. She was tall – as tall as Castle, taller with the 3" heels she wore. She was stunningly beautiful the kind of beautiful that both men and women turned to admire when she walked into a room. As Beckett got closer she saw noticed her sparkling blue eyes, her perfect complexion and a smile that would melt the polar ice caps. The woman stepped closer to Castle; it was hard to deny that they were a perfect match -- physically. Their children would have the crème de la crème of the gene pool. He left this beauty for his 'deep fried twinkie' of a wife? '_**Love the one you're with,'**_ she repeated to herself.

"Detective Beckett, allow me to introduce you to Stephanie Hill," he said formally. "Steph … the detective I was telling you about."

"Stephanie Mulligan, now," she said reaching out her hand. "Detective … I can see why Rick is using you as fodder for his next book. You are lovely and so … uncoplike. I have to believe that you are as good at your job as Rick tells me you are because he never gushes – at least not over women."

Beckett wanted to be offended, but forced herself to believe that this stranger meant no disrespect. "Thank you?" she queried.

"Is there some where we can talk?" Castle asked. "The conference room, maybe?"

"Sure," Kate should have been a little bit more prepared for the interview, but she wasn't. In fact there weren't any questions she had. As far as she was concerned Jason Thomas Riley's death was suicide either accidentally or on purpose it didn't really matter to _**homicide**_. She led the way to the conference room (aka the Interrogation Room), offered coffee or water to her 'guest' and let her instincts take over. "I am sorry for your loss, Mrs. Riley."

"Mulligan," she corrected. "JT and I haven't spoken in more than a year and haven't seen each other in five." She crossed her long legs allowing her skirt to slide up a bit and glanced at Rick. He clearly admired the view, but turned to Beckett. "There was no love lost between us," she went on. "The divorce was final about a year after I left. I am remarried and have completely moved on with my life."

Beckett looked at Castle with a quizzical look asking '_where am I supposed to go from that_?' "And what do you know of your sister's relationship with your ex-husband?"

"Carroll and I had a falling out about the time I left JT. I could say that Carroll caused our final break up, but in reality she was just a good excuse. JT was … how shall I say this? … indiscriminant. I knew that before I married him – my bad." She faked a smile. "But when he turned his attentions to Carroll – who clearly had moved to New York to be closer to him, not me – I had had enough. I don't fault JT entirely. He was a dog and Carroll … well Carroll needed to be abused by a good looking, smooth talking, scoundrel … apparently. She has self-esteem issues."

Beckett forced herself not to really dislike this cold bitch. She could only imagine what _**self-esteem issues**_ a younger sister of that woman would have suffered in life. "I understand your current husband is defending Ms Hill," Beckett observed.

"Family is family, detective," she observed. "I don't have any idea if Carroll had anything to do with JT's death, but she deserves the best defense money can buy. Or in this case … family connections can afford."

Beckett stood up. "Castle, may I speak with you?"

Castle smiled at Stephanie and followed Beckett out and into the observation room so they could speak in private.

"What are we doing here Castle?"

"You aren't asking the right questions?"

"And what questions am I supposed to be asking?"

"How much did you read of the Forensic Accountant's report?" he asked.

"None … this is not my case … this is not a homicide," she protested.

"Well, I did … cover to cover. Jason Thomas Riley and Carroll Hill have perpetrated that largest most involved identity theft that Agnes has ever seen in all her 35 years on the force."

"Agnes?"

"It wasn't just credit cards and loans, they had multiple businesses … online businesses selling everything from the next miracle diet pill to dog food to a dating service all listed in Stephanie's name or at least using her ID. They made millions. That was the reason for the apartment in her name, and Carroll pretending to be Stephanie. None of it could lead back to them. If pushed JT could say they were divorced and Carroll Hill was never LEAGALLY in the picture. She didn't live with him; she didn't work with him. If we weren't standing there when she walked into that apartment, we never would have known she existed. Of course it was all closing in on him – well actually closing in on Stephanie. I am sure Mulligan didn't need to have that kind of scandal hit the newspapers."

"Wait … I thought Riley was a Broadway producer," Beckett said.

"He did that too … and he used the money to help fund some of his shows and to convince other investors to invest. The accountant also came up with a list of investors and the list is pretty colorful … not the kind of people you want to take money from on a good day."

"So there is motive … apparently a lot of motive … but that doesn't change the fact that there is no physical evidence to prove that Jason Riley was murdered."

"Very true," came a voice from the door. Beckett and Castle both turned to see a fancy suit with a shiny briefcase and a sparkling white grin. "David Mulligan, you must be Detective Kate Beckett," he extended his hand. "Castle, good to see you again," he said not looking at him. "Keeping fit. You still want to be a writer?"

"Or an ambulance chaser," Castle quipped. "How's that working out for you?"

"I'm comfortable," he finally glared at Castle. "So you see … I got THE GIRL," he nodded to the stunning Stephanie waiting patiently in the interrogation room.

"Best man won," Castle agreed. "Of course you could say you were the last choice."

"You two know each other?" Beckett asked. "Is there anyone you DON'T know Castle?"

"Why did you bring MY WIFE to New York, Castle? She has nothing to do with this?"

"On the contrary, I think she has a lot to do with it."

"We have an alibi for Sunday."

"I am sure you do … and I am sure there were 30-100 people will corroborate it."

"About that … it was our anniversary."

"Congratulations," Castle said sarcastically.

The pissing contest continued. Kate was trying to find a quick and quiet exit when she noticed that Carroll Hill was directed into the interrogation room. She watched as the sisters greeted each other like alley cats. The boys didn't notice; too busy measuring. Kate wanted to turn up the sound so she could hear what was going on in there, but couldn't get to the equipment. The women were circling around each other; it was getting heated. They were seconds away from turning physical. She slipped from the observation room to find Esposito and Ryan taking bets.

"We got Castle at even money, but the leggy blonde is getting 2:1," Esposito stated.

Beckett was not amused, but she would have put her money down on Hill. She was a dirty fighter. Beckett gestured for the Ryan and Esposito to follow her and entered the interrogation room. As if a bell were sounded, both women flew at each other: scratching, hair pulling, arm bending, all while screeching words that no one understood. Ryan and Esposito watched for a moment until Beckett forced them to pull the wild cats apart.

"We need a bucket of water," Ryan said.

"More like a hose," Esposito counter as he grabbed Stephanie's arms and pulled her off Carroll.

"You bitch!" she shouted. "He was my husband."

"He hated you," Carroll countered back.

"You think he loved you? He used you."

"Not like he USED you … at least your name."

"I should have killed him years ago."

"I saw you … I saw you shoot him," Carroll yelled.

"You were there?"

"I wish I had a camera … what a joke … you think you are such a bad ass … shooting a man who is already down."

"I shot him. I would shoot him again. It was self defense … he stole my life."

It was then that David's attention was drawn back to the interrogation room. He blasted out of the observation room and into the interrogation room. "SHUT UP, STEPHANIE!!" he shouted. "JUST SHUT UP! I told you I would take care of it."

"Take care of it? Take care of it? You should have TAKEN CARE of it years ago. You call yourself a husband? You call yourself a lawyer? You are nothing … you are less of a man than JT was."

"You just couldn't leave well enough alone!!" he countered. "It was suicide, why did you have to shoot him? It was taken care of," he glanced at Carroll.

"OH MY GOD!!!" Stephanie shrieked. She looked back and forth between Carroll and David. "You spiked his Tequila … you two were in on it together."

Carroll freed herself from Ryan's grasp. "It was a great plan until you screwed it up." She crossed her arms.

"He was destroying our life," Mulligan protested. "Do you know what it was going to take to get us out of that mess he created … I wasn't about to let him take me down. I worked too hard."

"Would have been a tidy payday for me too," Carroll added.

"Payday?" Stephanie turned to her husband.

"You're sleeping with her," she accused.

David looked down pointedly not denying it.

"YOU BASTARD!!" Stephanie flew at Mulligan but was held back by Esposito.

Kate whistled loudly. "I've heard enough," she shouted. "Book them."

"Who?"

"All of them … murder, conspiracy to commit murder … hell I don't care if you book them for adultery, just get them out of here."

The suspects were ushered out and Kate was left with Castle looking smug and righteous. "Oh please," she walked passed him. "Tell me you had that all figured out."

A smiled washed the smug from his face as he followed along after her. "Not every detail … but I had a feeling getting the sisters in one room would net us something – getting Mulligan was just gravy."

"Well arresting one of the top criminal lawyers in the country for murder isn't going to play well. Going to be getting more than a few phone calls from your _**Gotham City Crew**_."

"Who me?"

"No, me," she corrected as her phone rang. "You were not part of this, OK Castle?"

"But?" He was hurt.

"For your own good," she warned. "For the good of the department and the city you love." She picked up the phone, "Beckett … yes sir … yes sir … yes sir … right away." She hung up. "And so it begins."

~!~!~!~!~!~

Castle walked into his apartment and tripped over seven suitcases packed and ready by the door. "Mother?" he called.

"You're home … good … Alexis called … she's in trouble."

"Trouble? What?"

"Meredith is taking off for a location shoot and leaving Alexis alone out there."

"What are you talking about?"

"If you answered your phone once in a while you could stay in the loop," his mother scolded. "I am flying out there and bringing her back."

"With five … six … seven suitcases?"

"There are two more upstairs," she said checking her watch.

"Mother!"

"I thought we could make a little vacation out of it … just me and Alexis. Do a little shopping … take in some sights … San Diego, San Francisco, Wine Country."

"Of course, why not? Try not to break the bank; the new book isn't out yet."

"Well this will give you time to start working on the next one." The door bell rang. "That will be the limo … I think I have everything," she looked around.

"Did you leave anything here at all?"

"Call your daughter, son. Tell her Grandmother is on her way to the rescue." She headed out the door. "We are booked at the Four Seasons," she tossed over her shoulder.

"Naturally … where else?"

~!~!~!~!~!~

Beckett had been put through the ringer by everyone from the mayor down to the DA. The only person that had her back was Captain Montgomery. At least he knew that Castle was involved and didn't hold Beckett completely responsible. It was a good collar, but they needed to make it stick and with someone like David Mulligan nothing was cut and dried. This case was going to shed a very BRIGHT LIGHT on New York's Finest.

"Kate," a gentle voice called from the other side of the office.

"Jeff, what are you doing back here?"

"We are moving Dad tomorrow and thought maybe you wanted to come up to New Haven. Say goodbye, help pack, maybe drive fly down with us to Philadelphia."

"Look Jeff, I don't know what you are trying to accomplish … but we are status quo, OK? Nothing more, nothing less. Is that enough for you?"

"If it has to be."

"Yes, it does."

"Ok."

"I will call Dad in a couple of days … make sure his cell phone is charged."

"I should leave you my number."

"Don't."

"Kate."

"Status Quo!" she stated again.

Jeff was frustrated and annoyed, but knew the tenacity of his sister. "Fine, Kate," he snapped. "But you better learn a little forgiveness or you will be alone and angry all your life."

When he was gone, Kate leaned back in her chair to consider her choices. She reached into the back of her bottom drawer and pulled out some files. The first one read "Lupinsky, Henry - DESEASED". She opened the file and read the highlights that she knew like the back of her hand.

Death: Homicide

Cause of Death: Stabbing (6)

Case: Unsolved

Under "Known Associates" third from the top was a name circled in red maker: Pavlos Papadakis, the last one highlighted in yellow read: Jeffrey Beckett.

She closed the file and scanned the next one:

Name: Johnson, Leroy – DESEASED

Death: Homicide

Cause of Death: Stabbing (4)

Case: Unsolved

The "Known Associates" also listed Pavlos Papadakis and Jeffrey Beckett.

She closed the file and scanned the next one:

Name: Marcus, Walter – DESEASED

Death: Homicide

Cause of Death: Stabbing (5)

Case: Unsolved

Known Associates: Pavlos Papadakis & Jeffery Beckett

She closed the file and scanned the next one:

Name: Campbell, Aaron – DESEASED

Death: Homicide

Cause of Death: Stabbing (3)

Case: Unsolved

Known Associates: Pavlos Papadakis & Jeffery Beckett

She closed the file and opened a thick one. The last one she had.

Name: Beckett, Jeffrey

Known Associates: Pavlos Papadakis, Aaron Campbell, Walter Marcus, Leroy Johnson.

She closed the file and stuffed them all back in her drawer. "Status Quo," she repeated to herself.

"What's STATUS QUO," came Lanie's voice.

"Castle," she said quickly trying to cover what she was really thinking about.

"And that is bad?"

"What do you want from me, Lanie?"

"I want you to have a little fun, go on … call the writer-boy and see what he's doing tonight."

"Why?"

"Well he did solve a case for you … a case that you didn't even know was a case."

"He didn't solve it … he just rounded up all the likely suspects and let them hang themselves."

"Still."

"Still," Kate agreed. "Fine, Fine."

"Why don't you just stop by there on your way home," she prodded. "Maybe with a bottle of wine … or Jack Daniels."

"Lanie!"

"I am just saying."

"Not sure I want to do that."

"Think he might be … _**busy**_?"

The thought had crossed Kate's mind. The last thing she wanted to do was catch Castle with another woman … not ANOTHER woman, any woman. Not that Kate was a woman, well she was, but not HIS woman. "I'll call him … later," Kate stood. "Want to go for sushi?"

"I have a date," she said proudly.

"Good for you," Kate said. "Details over coffee in the AM."

"You got it."

Kate pushed her bottom drawer closed with her foot. "Status quo," she said again. Well if that were the case, she needed to cut someone off at the pass. Threats didn't work; maybe a direct, honest request would.

~!~!~!~!~!~

"Why Detective Beckett … lovely to see you, as always," Castle stepped back allowing Kate to enter.

"I am not interrupting --."

"Nothing, have the place to myself it seems."

"Oh?"

"Yes, mother made and emergency trip to LA to keep my daughter company. I have just spent three hours on the phone with my business manager moving money around to pay for it," he smiled. "Think I might have to sell something. Want to buy a slightly used Laser Tag Game … top of the line? I can get you a good deal."

"No thanks, I'm good."

"May I offer you a drink?"

"No thanks." She noticed the poker table set up. "Game tonight?"

"Cancelled, apparently the mayor, your captain and the Judge are busy with a very high profile case. Something about damage control and crossing 't's and dotting 'i's."

"Part of why I am here," she turned to him. "Thanks, Castle."

"Glad I could help," he dismissed.

"I'm serious."

"I'm still glad I could help." He sat down on the edge of the couch, "So what was the other part?"

"Other part?"

"You said it was part of the reason you were here, what's the other part?"

"It seems like a really long time ago, and I am kind of leery about bringing it up."

He knew exactly what she meant. "You want to talk about your mom's case?"

"No," she said quickly. "I mean, yes. I mean … it is about that yes, but there is no **case** … I need you to understand … to appreciate …"

"Kate, just say what you have to say," he said calmly.

"I am asking you this - as a friend - to let it go. Seriously … let it go. More damage can be done if the case is reopened."

"Damage?"

"I need you to trust that I know what I am talking about … what I am asking."

He thought for a moment. "Ok," he said quickly.

"Seriously?"

"Yes, I get it. I will leave it alone."

She nodded; a little unconvinced, but relieved. "Thank you."

"But if you want to talk about it … as a friend … I am here. Just to talk."

"I can't … not yet … maybe not ever," her voice cracked.

"OK."

"You are not alone, Kate."

Her brother's warning came back to her. She cocked her head. "Why did you say that?"

"Because you seem so sad … so alone," he commented. "You aren't you know … alone. You shouldn't be – sad that is."

"Yeah … well … wishes and horses," she dismissed. "I should get going."

"Or not," he offered. "My game was canceled and mother and Alexis are out of town … I play a mean game of Scrabble."

She smiled warmly. "No thanks, not tonight." She moved toward the door.

Castle followed her. "We can order pizza … or Thai … or Chinese," he prodded.

"Been a busy week for me, and I need to be at the office early tomorrow."

"Another time," he said.

"Another time," she confirmed wondering if she really would find another time, another opportunity to spend time with him as conveniently. "Night," she called over her shoulder as she made her way down the hall. He watched for a moment until she turned the corner and then closed the door. Kate rang for the elevator. She had nowhere to go, nothing to do. Sure there was an open case on her desk, and work to be done on the Riley investigation, but none of that was pressing. She didn't really need to be at the office THAT early. Lanie was out - on a date no less. There was nothing for her at home, not a cat, not a dog, probably not even a frozen dinner or movie from Netflix. She looked back down the hall, and thought 'what the hell.'

Castle opened the door and was clearly pleased. "A dollar a point," she challenged as she walked past him.

"You do know that I am a writer, right?"

"You think you are the only one with a vocabulary?"

"Fine, a dollar a point," he accepted. "Pizza and Beer or Thai and Vodka."

She looked at him like he was crazy, "Thai and vodka."

~!~!~!~!~!~

The moments between sleeping and waking were typically the worst part of the day for Kate Beckett: the anticipation of the alarm or the dread of the phone call or the nag of a murderer who eluded her. That morning however she was eased into to waking by warm gentle caresses. Adoring finger tips moved slowly over the curves of her back, waist and hips. She moaned her appreciation but did not move fearing that the caress would stop. Finger tips were replaced with lips that kissed up her spine to the place behind her ear which never seemed to get enough attention. She leaned back into him feeling the full length of his body against hers. Damn, it had been a long time since she woke with a man in her bed, or she in his.

"You were right," he whispered pulling her close. "I had no idea."

She smiled at his delight.

"I should have," he resumed his attentions. "Just like you to be: methodical, thorough, exhaustive (in more ways than one) … and extraordinary."

"I wasn't in this bed alone," she turned to him accepting and returning his kiss.

"I take direction well," he grinned.

"Not usually." The buzz of her phone vibrating interrupted them. "Beckett," she said gruffly into the phone. "I'll be there in ten. … What? … Sure." She ended the call. "You will be getting ---"

His phone vibrated. "Now who would be calling me at this hour?" He reached over her to grab it. "Detective Ryan … how did I know it would be you?" He grinned down at Kate who was still in the crook of his arm. "Well I'm kind of busy right now … can I call you back? … Oh you did? … She did? … well then I guess I've just freed myself up … see you shortly." He ended the call. "You told him to call me?" he played. "I'm hurt … I'm offended … I'm a secret."

"Need to know," she corrected. "And they don't."

"They won't hear it from me," he kissed her again. "Besides, my pool date is not until the night of the book release party."

"Really?" she said. "Funny … I had last night … guess I win."

"They call that something … It will come to me --."

"Stacking the deck? Insider trading? Cheating?" she offered. "Come on, Castle, we have work to do," she slipped away from him to get dressed. "Unless you want to stay here … in bed … and I will brief you later."

"Oh … I like the sound of that … but I think I will tag along." He leaned back and watched her dress.

"Castle? Crime Scene? Dead body?" she urged.

"Not how I would have written this morning … of course I never would have come up with last night."

She shook her head. "Not that creative?"

"Yes, strip Scrabble is a new one even for me."

"You need to get out more," she said.

"Or stay in more," he corrected. "So?"

"So what?" she was moving into her detective mode.

"Nothing to say?"

"About?"

"About last night … this morning … the past 6 hours?"

"Was it really six hours?" A slow smile spread across her face, "do you really need me to say something?"

"Call me insecure."

"You are anything but," she headed for the door.

"Kate?" he sat up.

"Gotta go, Castle."

"You're an interesting woman, Detective," he observed.

"I'm glad I can keep you guessing."

"Can I?" he asked. "Can I keep guessing?"

Her smile was nothing short of enigmatic. She liked that she had intrigued him and it was more flattering that he was STILL intrigued after; but who knew how long it would last. She didn't think of Castle as a one-night-stand, nor did she expect that they would be a "couple." On the other hand, if he were only sticking around until they _**crossed that line **_(intrigued or not), she would be rid of him soon and that would be OK too. With any kind of luck at all, it would be a torrid affair that would end as abruptly as it started – no hard feelings. But she had no real expectations at all. It wasn't planned and she had no regrets. It wasn't a surprise and she wasn't seduced against her better judgment. And it wasn't due to over indulging in the martinis. She was a responsible adult woman with wants and desires that she got attended to by a man who had similar wants and desires. They were consenting adults – very consenting, more than consenting … they were downright enthusiastic. "See you there, Super Stud," she said over her shoulder as she slipped from the room knowing that he would feed on a comment like that for days. What was that about "well timed compliments"?

"Curiouser and Curiouser," Castle said after she was gone. He quickly dressed. Funny, he had thought she would be less mysterious after…. He was wrong. There was a lot more UNFOLDING to do with Kate Beckett and he would enjoy every minute.

~!~!~!~!~!~

Thanks for playing along.

Comments welcome and very much appreciated.

Here's to Season 2. Bring it on Kids!!!!


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